Ears, Book III: Paradise Apart

by Mimiga

The great northern city of Paradise is known as the largest gathering of pokemon in the world. Now that lofty title threatens to collapse the infrastructure its founders so carefully crafted. The coming winter holds the very thing Alexander has come to fear, and to preserve his city, he must confront the very mistake that changed his life, or there may not be a Paradise by spring.

11. The Weavile Behind The Curtain

Ahh. Wonderful heat.

Vallion couldn't care less about the crumbling world around him. All that mattered was the crackling flames, with each wayward lap of the fire blowing another pulse of warmth his way. His eyes were shut tight to protect them from the heat, and though the bright yellow still leaked through his eyelids, the inn that surrounded him might as well have not existed. It didn't help that he kept drifting off back to sleep, managing to catch himself just before he fell over most times.

Not every part of his perception was dulled by the flame, unfortunately. The pits on his snout detected a distinct lack of warmth to his right. The pokemon made no sound and gave no presence, but they were definitely there. What a shame. The Serperior shuffled to the left to surrender some of the fire he'd curled in front of.

"Ooh. Fancy yourself a gentleman, huh?"

He knew that voice. Sinister and mocking. Vallion opened his eye to the Weavile who had squat down beside him, basking in the same heat with a coy grin on her face.

"This place is a dump," Chenza said, facing the hearth. "Food's overpriced. You can tell they get their shipments legally. Decor's drab and boring. Spirits are low as all hell. What's a pokemon as resourceful as you even doing staying in a place like this?"

"What are you doing here?" he said.

"You know. Just hanging out. Decided to check up on my second least favorite Serperior. I heard you did an excellent job at making Beartic pay interest. I suppose it would've stirred them up more if I had Brute slaughter the whole house, but letting grudges fester gets it done just as well."

"Did you come all this way just to say that?"

Chenza shrugged. "Partly, yes, but then I couldn't help but notice how awful of a place you've been staying at. I mean come on-you're a Serperior! Where's your self-respect? Surely you can do better than this."

He shut his eyes once more and leaned closer to the hearth. "Why? It's cheap. It's inconspicuous. It works. I don't have the money to go anywhere else, regardless."

"Of course you don't. You're following the rules. This is how the king wants us to live. Barely scraping by-getting short gasps of air only when he wants us to. How do you think The Family even stays afloat when their only business is smuggling food? The crown loves to wring us for all we're worth when there's always been more than enough for everyone."

"Do you have a point?" Vallion muttered.

"My point is that you should follow me out the door after one minute passes. Maybe you'll catch a glimpse of what it looks like to live like a pokemon instead of a slave."

The Weavile made no noise as she got up and left. Like a leaf on the breeze, she slipped out into the murky light with the old door making little more than a squeak. Vallion briefly considered ignoring Chenza's proposal entirely. He wasn't quite done enjoying one of the scant moments where he wasn't freezing. After a mental note of forty seconds, the Serperior shook his head to himself and began to stretch. At the mark of a minute, he slithered away from that wonderful spot and plunged into the morning.

A dense fog had covered the city. One couldn't see more than halfway down the block before all turned to rolling mist. This was what was considered a pleasantly warm day to the inhabitants of this northern frontier. Vallion's scoff turned to steam as he started to scan up and down the street for the ice type. She was a mere shadow in the distance, but she was there, apparently waiting for him. He had to hurry down the sidewalk just to keep her in sight when she started moving again.

It was difficult to keep up. He followed her down the vertical streets where few residents could be seen. Vallion quickly started to lose his place as she led him deeper into parts he didn't recognize, a dilapidated labyrinth sprawling out just beyond the murk. His instincts attempted to pick out landmarks along the path, but there was little to find other than the same old cracks and dust. Perhaps this was by design.

Down one alley, then another. The ghost of the Weavile seemed to string him into a part of town tucked away deep within a valley between three hills. Clusters of menacing gazes peered out at him from around corners and through cracked windows. A trio of poison types had gathered around a game of dice at the end of the avenue, their conversation getting heated. Chenza would come to a stop in front of a particularly run-down tavern.

"Impressed?" she said.

"Not really."

"Good. See, you do have standards!"

Inside, Vallion immediately recognized that cheaply-built furniture. The bottom floor of the tavern was covered in them, and so was the landing and balcony of the second floor above. Filling the seats were the same rugged folk as always. A Zweilous barreled past the both of them to get through the door, a pair of growls as their only response.

The Serperior slithered out of the way and scowled. "They really don't know who you are, do they?"

"Of course not. Not yet, anyway. That will change very soon." She beckoned him along with a curl of her claws. "But that's for later. You can't stay in that garbage pile of an inn-not with the kind of work you're going to be doing. I'm going to get you into a garbage mound instead. It's better, trust me."

Further into the establishment, an argument rose above the pitch of the chatter. A Machoke slammed their fists down onto the countertop and nearly spilled their bowl.

"You want how many coins for that?! Last week it was a third of that price! This is almost as bad as it would be if I went and got it out in town! You tryin' to scam me outta my cash, punk? Is that what's goin' on here?"

The Gallade behind the counter furrowed their brow. "No, you sniveling idiot. The deal with you-know-who fell through. We haven't gotten a crate in since last week. You gonna eat that or did I just waste my time trying to sell to a moron?"

"Of course I'm gonna eat that! Just tell those stingy fucks to fork the goods over already or I'm gonna go get it myself!"

Chenza continued towards the flight of stairs with Vallion in tow. She shot the passing exchange a satisfied grin and looked back towards the steps. "That's a good sign. Nothing but good signs these days. Oh, I'm loving it."

"I thought you said you were supposed to take me somewhere that wasn't a dump," Vallion said as they ascended to the second floor. "This seems just as bad as the place I was at, if not worse from the noise."

She gave a shrug. "Well the food was much cheaper. Now the big bad Mandibuzz is thinking to punish us by cutting off our supplies for that little stunt I had you pull. Nobody's gonna know that we started it. They'll be flinging shit at us for a while-gives me a great opportunity to start fires with it. Anyways, shut up. I'm doing you a bigger favor than you realize."

It was more of the same upstairs, though a bit more cramped. The ruffians that inhabited this place were still in the process of waking up, yawning and rubbing at their eyes and barking at one another. The Family's recent embargo seemed to have extended to coffee beans, too. Chenza was right-the air of discontent was growing. These pokemon aren't exactly earning the kind of coin that affords such luxuries. Otherwise they wouldn't be here.

"Hey! Oi! Very funny, now do you wanna set that down? Come on!"

That voice was familiar, too. Slightly sniveling, mostly nasal. Linoone had been beset by a small group of tired-looking thugs. A Gloom and a Scrafty watched on and laughed as a Throh held down Linoone by his scruff and held aloft some bag by its strap with their other hand.

"What, this?" the Throh mocked. "Ain't you ever heard of sharing, Linoone? These'r tough times! Us folk gotta stick together if we wanna survive this season, right?"

"Yeah yeah! Sharing's caring! Ha!" the Scrafty added.

Linoone struggled to wiggle out of the fighting type's grasp. "Sure! I heard of it! But not this time, not right now! I gotta feed my kids-my family! You wanna the kinda guy to take a bread roll straight from a kid's hands? Come on, let me go already!"

Chenza stopped to chuckle at the spectacle, only to make an inquisitive hum when Vallion started to approach it. The Throh made a similar noise, falling silent as they began to eye up the new arrival. A moment came and went before the Serperior finally extended a vine to sweep the bag away from the Throh and launched another to slap their hand away. Linoone shot out from beneath the both of them as soon as he was able, but didn't go far.

"Don't you have anything better to do than prey on the weak?" Vallion said with a glare.

Throh looked down at their wrist and slowly exhaled through their nose. Standing at full height, they weren't too much shorter than Vallion's raised nose, though it was clear that they were trying to close that distance as much as possible.

"What's with you, punk? What the fuck's with that? You think you're some moral paragon or somethin'? Think that runt's worth a damn to save? And savin' him from what-me? I'm thinkin' you just picked a fight you didn't wanna pick."

The Scrafty shared that sentiment rather quickly. It was the Gloom that seemed to start to worry, a nervous fidgeting in their stance as they started to back away. The same Gloom from his initiation.

"Uh," the grass type started. "Hey, you don't know who that guy is, Throh? Maybe we should cool it down for once. Maybe we-"

"Can it, shrubhead! Or you'll be my next salad." The Throh postured further and put a finger to the Serperior's chest. "Now listen. You ain't gonna get far in this town if you go actin' like that. I can teach ya what happens when you do, if ya want. I'll even let ya walk away with your bones intact. If I'm feelin' generous."

There were more eyes on them now. Some cheered for a fight. Some ignored the altercation completely, disinterested. This might not have even been the first fight today. Vallion hummed. "Actually, I have some experience as a teacher. But I wouldn't be teaching you. You'd be the example."

Linoone started to stammer. "N-no need for that, Bright-eyes! They was just playin' around, see? Just a bit of fun between the guys! Right? Am I right?"

But those words fell on ears already deaf with rage. Throh made the first move, because of course they did. They launched a fist meant for Vallion's throat in the hopes that they could impress their peers. The Serperior only had to move backwards with the blow, and in that position he easily dipped his head beneath the fighting type's arm and wrapped around. He squeezed the limb with the side of his neck and twisted his body to pull the Throh forward, then released to let them fall.

The Throh tumbled over themselves, the old floors creaking suspiciously from the impact. Laughter bloomed from the gruff audience that surrounded them. Vallion let them get back on their feet, perhaps hoping that the embarrassment would be enough to dissuade them. It wasn't, and with a roar they came charging back in, because these kinds of pokemon always did.

Brute force was all the Serperior needed to reverse the charge and put that Throh face-down in the dust. Vallion redoubled his curl around the fighting type's body to make sure that they didn't have any tricks up their sleeves. Some triumphant applause came his way, though the battle was so one-sided and clean that it seemed most lost their interest.

Vallion raised his voice. "It's painfully obvious you've never stepped foot in a proper mystery dungeon. The wildlings there fight with their lives on the line, ready to tear you apart by any means necessary. Most of the pokemon I've fought in Paradise only fight for childish amusement or social power. It's pitiful, really. You've never left these nurturing walls and you think you're strong."

Then, and only then, did he motion to hand Linoone back his bag. "You shouldn't let these fools walk all over you. They shouldn't have been able to catch you to begin with. Try harder next time."

"Y-yeah! Sure, sure! Whatever you say, I'm all for it! Just as long as nobody holds anything that you do against me personally!" Linoone grabbed the strap into his jaws, tossed his head to flip it over onto his back, and dashed down the stairs so quickly that he nearly flew instead.

Throh stayed down when Vallion finally released them and slithered away. Their companions were nowhere to be seen, and their pride was left a coughing mess on this filthy floor. The Serperior went back to Chenza with a huff and gestured for her to continue on. She snickered and started past the rows of tables towards the southern end of the establishment.

"Really?" she said in a hushed tone. "That slimy bastard absolutely wasn't worth defending. You were just looking for a reason to lay that guy out, weren't you?"

"Shardurr is full of hot-headed and weak pokemon. They stick their chests out and posture for no real reason. I hope you intend on doing something about that."

"You might want to be careful there, Serperior. Assuming that everyone's a small fry is gonna get you cut. I'll see to that myself if you step out of line. Don't forget my charities. And speaking of my charities."

At the edge of the tavern was a stairwell that seemed to almost be carved out of the wall, like someone had shoddily built a passage between floors to the adjacent building. There was a Turtonator loosely guarding it. They looked down at the Weavile, then back up to Vallion.

"Who's this?"

"Someone a cut above their cloth," Chenza answered as she stuck out an open claw. "Give him a spare. Any will do."

The Turtonator briefly scanned their surroundings before they reached into a pouch and threw a small key into the Weavile's hands. "Fine."

Chenza clicked her talons together and ushered Vallion down the rickety stairway. "I lied, actually. There are a few pokemon in Shardurr who do know who I am. Those who've been around for long enough to remember the beginning, or are impressive enough that they've met with me personally. I can do plenty from the background, like getting you this free room, for example."

The stairs lead deeper than Vallion expected-penetrating between the walls of the next building over and into the ground where the bare wooden scaffolding became reinforced stone. The underground network of tunnels had clearly been dug out by ground types long ago, judging from the wear on the walls and the refurbishing that attempted to disguise it. There was a larger lobby-like hub that had several off-shoots that snaked out beneath the city's streets. Chenza took him down one such cavernous hallway.

"This is hideously illegal," she went on to say. "These tunnels, I mean. The oaf on the throne is very strict about space and property. Hideouts like these violate quite a few laws. I just think it's funny that a cave simply existing is fit for punishment on par with murder. Not that we don't do plenty of murder, too."

"I don't."

"Of course you don't. Here's that room."

The key slipped into the lock with a bit of difficulty and clicked. The lantern in the hall provided just enough light to see within. Beyond the door was a room not much more impressive than the one he'd been staying in, with the bare minimum of necessities and even less decor. The ever-classic pile of cloth scraps encased within a wooden box made its reappearance for his bed. There was a table and a half-melted candle. The air was stuffy and made his nose itch.

...But it was much warmer down here.

"This isn't as much of a dump, is it?" he went on to say anyway, idly peering at the creases in between the wooden and earthen walls.

"You're here for free, you freeloading asshat. Unless you'd like to go back? I could always just keep this key to myself."

The Serperior shook his head. "That won't be necessary. It will do just fine. I don't need much else."

Chenza flipped the key between her fingers before she tossed it to him. After kicking the door shut behind her, she started towards the table in the darkness and picked up a matchbox to light the lone candle. "Great. It'll be much easier to keep my eye on you from here. You don't mind that, do you? You could be a fucking psycho as far as I know. This way I'll know sooner rather than later."

"Why so transparent about it?" Vallion asked. "Better yet, why butter up to me in the first place?"

She gave a shrug. "Oh, just call it a favor. Act unto others or however it goes? I'm kidding. This is so I know where you sleep." Chenza let frost accumulate on her claws and started to flick clumps of snow at the candle's flame. "I think you will be an important tool to me, Serperior. I do not misplace my tools. I'm not extending an invitation for you to sleep here at night. I'm telling you to. Or is that going to be a problem?"

"And if I choose a different inn to stay at for a night?"

She shot him a grin. "Then I won't know where you are, and if I don't know where you are then I can only assume you're selling secrets to the highest bidder. And if you're doing something like that, well..." The candle went out, leaving only the light that filtered through the cracks in the wooden wall. "You don't seem particularly comfortable with this kind of life yet. Let me give you some advice. Don't ask questions, and especially not ones you won't like the answer to."

"Fine."

"Now you're getting the hang of it. And speaking of getting the hang of it." Chenza stopped just in front of him, barely visible in the dark. "Hm. What'd that little runt call you? Bright-eyes? Well alright, Bright-eyes. You wanna prove that you're playing with the big kids so badly? I got something you could do to prove that we're still on the same wavelength. It'll take some magic words and a bit of creativity, but it might actually be a good thing if you fuck it up. I guess we'll just have to see."

...

It didn't stay 'warm' forever. As the day progressed, the fog condensed in the frigid air and coated everything with a layer of glossy frost. It wasn't snowing, but the omnipresent layer of clouds nevertheless kept the blue of the sky hidden from sight. It felt like it had already been months since Vallion had seen the sun. At this rate he'd be as yellow and jaundiced as Alexander.

The Serperior knew this route from before. It was the same one with that vantage point of the center of Paradise-the one with the frozen lake in clear view. As he passed by, he spotted a handful of pokemon sliding around on the ice on one of the far shores, skating in circles by themselves or playing a game of tag. It made him think of home, though the water rarely froze in Serene Village. Perhaps he should go visit when this is all over. Floatzel would hate it, of course, but it was easy to bring up his long vacations over in Atlantia to get him to hush up about it.

Vallion eventually passed Beartic's manor and traveled further into the bottom half of Redland District. There was a great deal of commotion out on the streets today. Plenty of faces in the crowds, or swooping overhead, or looking down on it all from their balconies and windows. The marginally-improved weather must've convinced everyone to have a day out on the town. That, or it was the start of the week and Vallion hadn't noticed.

Thankfully, the populous roads started to thin out as he continued to follow signs and take detours. He was freed from the current of the crowd entirely as he slipped beneath a worn stone bridge and entered into a hilly park. Like any feature of nature around here, the bushes were nothing but naked twigs and the grass was all but a sheet of white, but it was a welcome breath of fresh air regardless.

There was only a single soul in sight. At the center of a small grove of evergreens were two benches situated back-to-back on the side of the trail. A Hypno sat on the eastern one, half-reclined like they were about to fall asleep from boredom. Vallion curled up on the opposite bench without a word and made sure there was nobody else around.

"Hello."

"...What? What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Yes, very busy. "I'm not in the business of wasting any time. The son flies at dusk."

Those words left a suspicious quiet in their wake. He heard the shuffling of the Hypno looking behind himself, then a scoff as he returned to vacantly stare into the snow. "Gee, Freak. Did you do something with your plumage, or were your feathers always that scaly? Where's that fate-forsaken Swellow gone off to? Who the fuck have they sent me today?"

"Someone else," the Serperior answered. "It doesn't matter to you. I've just got back from the coronation."

"Oh son of a bitch, she sent you? What are you, the cannon fodder?" The Hypno spat into the weeds. "Look, friend. You Shardurr fucks pulled some shit back at Beartic's place. This deal we've had going isn't going to fly without some serious apologies, you feel me? Why the fuck ain't she sent someone who mattered? Freak oughta be here to get this sorted out himself!"

"Bold of you to assume that I don't matter, considering I'm the one that took down Beartic and his goons."

"You-" Realization broke his breath. "Ah. You are a Serperior, ain't you? Well fuck! You stay the hell away from me! If you so much as make a-"

"I'm not here to fight you," Vallion quickly interrupted. "This is about the negotiations over our shipments. More accurately, the one we are about to trample all over. Chenza told me you were in with us more than you were with The Family. She said to expect that a particular day was finally coming. I assume you know what that means?"

A long sigh left the Hypno's nostrils. "Shit. It means she's finally gone off the deep end this time. Things really are going to start going insane around here, aren't they? Explains why Freak's not shown up. He's probably been tying up loose ends before the main event. As much as I hate to miss a showdown like that, it looks like I'm gonna have to lie low for a while…"

Vallion swiveled his head towards the psychic type. "Not yet you aren't. You're going to help us make this fire bigger."

"Fateless son of a…" Hypno grumbled to himself. "Well I hope you and that bitch with knives for hands know what you're doing, because I'm not about to get my ass chewed out by going back with bad news. This is on you assholes."

"She already has a plan. You only need to tell them that the arrangement is off completely. We'll still be getting our shipment, though-so long as it's sitting somewhere unguarded when night falls. All you'd have to do is tell me where, and we'll put in the rest of the effort."

The Hypno paused. A strong gust jostled the branches of the trees and dumped clumps of snow onto the ground. He popped his lips.

"This winter's gonna suck for the losing side. Better start hoping that you're standing with the right one. Bring a wagon to...let's say the twenty-second business on the left side of Main Street from when you first turn onto it. That one's a distributor for raw lumber, run by some Bibarel and his kids. They've been a midway point for a lot of deals for years. There's gonna be something stored there overnight."

Vallion smiled. "Thank you very much. Anything else I'm meant to say in a meeting like this?"

"Can't believe she sent a new guy to do this," Hypno said to the passing wind. "No, not really. Just make sure it's clear I'm not the one that told you that. The flock's gonna be out for blood and I'm the first one they'll be sniffing out."

"Alright. Now go on and tell your people how Shardurr embarrassingly ruined this agreement for themselves, and how little remorse we feel over Beartic."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Hypno groaned as he rose from his lazy recline and started to hobble away. They made it a few steps out before stopping and turning to look at the Serperior a final time.

"Next time you see Freak, tell him I'll be waiting for the show. I can tell you don't have any history with this city, but I've known the guy since we was kids. It's gonna be a big one this year."

A shimmering grey washed over the Hypno's body. His features melted away into the hunched form of a pokemon crouched low to the ground. A tangled mass of black hair tinged with red obscured most of the creature, but their narrowed snout and squinted eyes were pointed right at Vallion. A grin crept over most of the Zoroark's face.

"Tell him I said that, would you? I bet you will. You gotta be the reliable sort. Otherwise she wouldn'ta sent you to start her war."

...

The night was particularly thick now that the fog had rolled back in. The spotlights of lanterns further down the road bled into the mists and soaked the surrounding area. This made the corners without light seem even more abyssal than usual. The rickety wheels of the cart were the only sound to bounce off the walls in the quiet howl that always seemed to encompass the city. There was no one around. No passersby, no guards. Just the four Shardurr and an empty street before them.

The Krookodile that dragged the cart along was flanked by two more pokemon. Vallion slithered to the left, and an Abomasnow lumbered to the right. Atop the cart itself and sat upon the edge was Chenza, who looked on into the fog with an unswerving interest. She mouthed an ascending number as they went on. From two to eight. From ten to seventeen. As her lips formed twenty-two, the Krookodile turned off onto a side road.

This building had an impressive amount of real estate attached to it. While the business itself was nothing special, there was a fenced lot behind it that encompassed a quarter of the block. Every part of Bibarel's refinement process could be seen, from freshly-cut logs with bark and lichen still attached, to particular shavings and slivers of timber, all the way down to bundles of planks ready to ship.

The lock on the gate was nothing. It would have been easy to pick, but since they were here to make a lasting impression, it was smashed open instead. They strolled down the beaten path through the center of the yard and towards the shuttered warehouse at the tail end of the building. That wide door was unfortunately locked from the inside, however. Forcing it open took all three of them and made quite a bit of noise.

There were more orderly stacks of cedar planks inside. No guards from The Family, but no obvious reward, either.

"Doesn't seem like a trap," Vallion muttered, squinting at the darkness.

"Zoroark wouldn't lead us into a trap if he could help it," Chenza barked back. "No, it's definitely here. I'm willing to bet what's here was going to be our shipment if we paid them back and begged on our knees. Now that they know we ain't, they were probably going to move it somewhere else before dawn. This is the perfect time."

"It better be," the Krookodile groaned. "I ain't dragged this piece of shit cart around for nothing."

After a brief search, they found nothing but product on the surface. Interestingly, there was an entrance to a cellar conveniently located behind a barricade of pallets. They pushed the wood out of the way and made quick work of the third lock and chain in their path, but it was just too dark to see any further. The Abomasnow produced a match from a small box on the bottom of the cart, which was a truly pathetic amount of light, but it would have to do.

Chenza traversed the steps first, followed shortly after by Vallion. This seemed like a small workshop of sorts, complete with a cluttered bench and many stuffed drawers of tools and mechanisms. There were a few crates down here, too. The first few they checked were just stored junk, but the largest of them seemed special. He could tell before they even opened it from the scents of spices on his forked tongue.

The lid came off with a thud. The Serperior was immediately assaulted by the smell of coffee beans. Tightly-packed white bundles marked with paint completely filled the wooden container. At just a glance, there was everything from flour rations to dried fruits to sugar and tea. His eyes caught on something that seemed suspiciously carnivorous, but Chenza closed the lid and shot Vallion a wide grin.

"This crate is worth more coins than you can carry, Bright-eyes. Do you think they'll mind if we just help ourselves to it, hmm? I hope they do. Hey, you two boneheads! Get down here and help us carry this thing out! There's a bonus in it for you!"

The Krookodile and Abomasnow could barely fit down the passage. It was exceedingly cramped down in that cellar, but with some difficulty and more noise than was necessary, they managed to bring it topside and loaded it up onto the cart. Chenza had stayed behind in the cellar, where a shrill scraping sound was emanating.

In the space where the crate once occupied, she carved out a very telling S symbol into the floor. Satisfied, she dusted her claws off and started towards the exit where Vallion peered in. "Hm? What, did you think I wasn't going to leave my mark on the place? Come on. Wouldn't you?"

They got so close to making it out clean, getting halfway across the yard before a noise alerted them to another presence. Another door opened, and out came a Bibarel holding a candelabra and sporting a night cap. Their eyes adjusted to the night and locked onto the group of criminals.

"Wha- Who are you?! What are you doing out there?! Hey, I'm talking to you! I'm going to call the guards!"

Krookodile was about to make a break for it with their haul, but Chenza raised a claw to stop him. She dismounted the wagon and slowly started towards the owner. Vallion was nearly ready to spring into action to stop a murder, but the Weavile came short a few meters out.

"Go ahead," she said. "Call them. You'll only give away the fact that you were storing all those illegal rations. Won't that be fun for your business?"

"You mean to-" the Bibarel stuttered. "Those are- Hey! Where are you going with that?! Do you have any idea what kind of pokemon you're messing with?!"

Chenza chuckled. "Oh yes, I do. In fact, I'd throw the same question back at you. We were just about to be on our way in peace until you showed up. Looking to pick a fight with Shardurr, are you?"

"Sh- Sh- Sha-"

"For the love of the Hollow just spit it out already. Or are you still half-asleep? Should've stayed in bed if you ask me."

With an upwards flick of her nose, Chenza twisted around and waved a dismissive hand at those surrounding the cart. "When The Family comes by to ask what happened to their stash, tell them the proper owners came by to pick it up. Make them remember the name of Chenza the Weavile. You're lucky, Bibarel. You just became a messenger, and you're only just important enough to not get slaughtered."

The owner gave them no more trouble. Not a single breath left the Bibarel's mouth before Shardurr took the cart outside the gate and rounded the corner. The fog covered their exit, obscuring the mill completely in just half a minute of walking. Though they still had to make it back without a guard sticking their nose into their business, it felt as though victory was already in their grasp. After all, it wasn't really about the prize. The shadow of Shardurr had finally revealed herself. And now, all they had to do was wait.