Chapter 14

The shining knight

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Anomen could deal with blood. And gore. Even viscera. By Helm, he could even manage the agony of dealing with what felt like a small fracture in his forearm from trying to absorb an ogre mage's blow with his shield.

What he couldn't deal with was failure.

For the third time that morning, he sighed, turning his eyes skyward as he thought of yesterday's aftermath. With his last words, Kalah revealed that his power was fuelled by a wish granted from an unknown benefactor. And while they'd slain the vile little gnome for his wicked mischief, it didn't undo the damage he'd wrought when his illusions dissolved.

The gentle sobs dissolved into an anguished wail as Aerie's form seemed to almost crumble as she knelt, holding an unmoving gnome tight to her chest. She repeated the name 'Quayle' over and over as she rocked the body back and forth, as if in prayer, as if it could awaken the broken form. Swallowing his discomfort, Anomen turned away from the sight. As he did, he caught the thousand-yard stare on Elene's face as she watched Aerie mourn the man that had been a father to her. Jaheira approached, placing her hand on Elene's shoulder for a reassuring squeeze.

Not much else was said the rest of the day.

Aerie was scooped up by the circus master once the ordeal was over, though Anomen would never forget the glassy-eyed look she gave him as they left the circus once the City Watch was done with their questioning. Kivan argued that they should have taken Aerie with them, but Elene countermanded his suggestion with uncharacteristic brusqueness. Better to let her be safe under the care of the circus than to tread the dangers they faced every day. Anomen agreed. While Aerie was a great help in circumventing Kalah's tricks, he couldn't see one with her temperament faring well in their line of work. Elene had made the right decision in not taking the girl along.

No point lingering and fretting over what's done. Shaking his head, he leaned over to collect his sword, then winced as he strapped his shield in place. Despite his planned destination, it wouldn't do to walk around the slums unarmed. Especially given the incident with the slavers from a week ago. Much as he hated to admit it, if Kivan hadn't shown up when he did, they would have been done for. He would not be caught unawares again.

"Heading out so early?" Yoshimo piped up groggily from across the room.

"Yes." Anomen paused. "Not that it's any of your business."

"You're breaking my heart, young samurai," the Kara-Turan groaned, pulling at his sheets as he rolled over without a care in the world.

Anomen left the room in a huff. Thanks to their cash-strapped situation, he had no choice but to bunk with Yoshimo since he'd joined this group. Initially, he was pleased to have Kivan join them, perhaps presenting an opportunity to change roommates at last. Five minutes with the other man put paid to that thought. A block of granite would be more pleasant company. Honestly, he couldn't understand why both Jaheira and Elene held the elf in such high esteem when all he did was growl and grumble most of the time. He didn't think that skill with a bow should compensate for a complete lack of social decency!

Breakfast was a light affair, with ambient chatter only broken up by clinks of cutlery scraping over crude plates. He craned his head occasionally to check if Jaheira or Elene would make their way down soon. Granted, he was more than an hour earlier than he should be, given their first meeting scheduled at the Bridge should be at tenth bell. But he still ended his meal in disappointment as they never showed up. He wondered if Elene had been poring over the new spellbook she'd gotten from Ribald Barterman well into the night. That had been the only good thing to come out of the entire circus debacle. Then he reconsidered. More likely she'd been off on another Shadow Thief escapade. Another sore point he'd yet been able to get comfortable with despite the necessity.

Which was precisely why he made a beeline for the Government District once he was done with his meal. With all that's happened to him and to the group, he needed this meeting. He needed to settle his heart and mind.

The rose garden there was in full bloom, vivid colours splashed across manicured bushes. His eyes skimmed over the glorious red flowers and thought of his mother. How she'd loved spending her rest days in this place, after service at the temple. He'd tried planting a rose bush near her grave years ago, but to his disappointment, the plant never took. Maybe he could ask Jaheira about it one of these days. His thoughts skidded to a halt when he caught sight of a chestnut-haired young woman sitting on one of the benches with a book in hand. Her soft curls partially covered her features, but he would recognise this young lady anywhere. He couldn't help the huge grin that broke out on his face.

"Moira!"

His sister raised her gaze, matching his joy with a shining smile of her own. "Hello, dearest Anomen. You look well for someone disowned."

Shared laughter rang in the small garden as he embraced her as gently as he could with his metal armour on. Oh, how he'd missed her crackling wit. He'd trained for years with many squires, travelled far on campaigns, but never had he found someone who could lift his spirits as Moira could. Years of living in fear in their own house gelled them together like two peas in a pod. Siblings bound by blood and shared misery.

"Very funny," he told her as he pulled away. For a moment, he held her at arm's length, studying her delicate features with brotherly pride and a fierce surge of protectiveness. Just under twenty summers, she was like the roses in the garden, a beauty in full bloom. She looked so much like their late mother. "You are well?"

Moira shrugged. "As well as can be. Now don't go making that face, he hasn't done anything untoward."

"You let me know if he lays a finger on you again. It will be the last time he has fingers," he rumbled.

"Oh, let's not start like this. I'd rather you tell me why you haven't written to me in two tendays!"

Letting go of the sudden spark of rage at the thought of their father, Anomen allowed himself to be pulled down onto the bench. It was hard, being away from home and leaving Moira to the mercy of that vile man. But after the first time he'd spotted bruising on her face, the words he'd had with his father after apparently had achieved the intended effect. Once upon a time, Cor Delryn had been a solid, upstanding businessman, a good husband and father. His wife's death and the devilry of drink have driven away even the memory of that from his son.

For the next half hour, Anomen focused on his sister. Told her about the escapades he'd been up to after the incident at the Copper Coronet. His frustration with the blasted Athkatlan two-tier legal system that he'd been taught to treat as sacred. Moira listened avidly, asking many questions about Elene in particular, delighted that a lady born and raised in a library could go toe to toe with slavers so fearlessly.

"Is she pretty, this Elene?" she asked with too-wide eyes.

"Well…" Anomen cleared his throat, remembering clever green eyes and that conspiratorial smile from across the table. How was this relevant to the discussion? "Yes, I suppose she is, at that."

"Do you think I could do what she does one day?" Moira's awe almost palpable at that point.

Anomen leaned away from her, remembering how Elene decapitated the slaver captain in the stockade with a ruthless strike. She'd walked around with a streak of blood on her face for the better part of an hour before he'd politely pointed it out to her. "I'd…rather you didn't."

"What, it's not genteel enough for you?"

"It's dangerous work, Moira. Do you think I could sit still thinking you're off fighting monsters in the sewers somewhere?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, so I'll stick to embroidery. Perchance I can menace a burglar with my knitting needles."

"Your talent lies elsewhere, and you know that." Anomen frowned, deciding now was as good a time to broach the subject as any. "How is the business doing?"

The face she made could curdle milk. "As you would expect. The bookkeeper we hired to look at the ledgers…he said we can eke through another three months. At best. The suppliers we still have are only selling to us because of long-standing relationship, otherwise they'd all be in Farrahd's pockets by now."

His hand came up to rub against his temple almost against his volition. Nothing she'd said was particularly surprising, but it was still a blow to hear his fears confirmed. His father's business had been limping on for years, probably powered by his and Moira's prayers alone. Though she'd been working hard for the past year to try to improve the situation with the bits and pieces she'd learned from their scant few employees and business partners. It seemed her efforts were too little, too late, especially in the face of a ruthless competitor like that accursed Calimshite upstart Saerk Farrahd. The man with his aggressive business practices made other merchants look saintly in comparison.

"How can I help?" he asked, his voice low.

"Unless you can plough in 5,000 gold by then, I don't think there's much you can do," she sighed.

Anomen squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Gold. Always more gold.

Blast this accursed city.

"But don't worry about us, alright?" Moira reached over to touch his shoulder, offering a strained smile. "I have some gold stashed away; it can last the estate until the end of this year. In the meantime, I'll…try to find work. Or find another business partner. I'll figure something out, you can count on me for that. Father is in good hands."

"I don't care about him. I worry for you," he bit back.

Moira folded her hands in her lap and avoided his gaze. "I know. But if you really want to help, we need more gold. A lot of it."

It must pain her to admit that. The daughter of a noble, a formerly proud lineage on both their father and mother's side, burning the candlelight to the wee hours to think of how to make do with the pittance left over to live with. Yet without her efforts, the estate would already be run aground even with the money he sent back every month even during his days in the seminary. For all his courage in battle, he secretly hated his own cowardice for leaving his sister to her fate while he chased his own dreams.

"I think…I can manage that with time," he admitted, thinking of the task he has lined up with the City Watch. Then he raised his eyes to the clouds and thought of men in hoods, and secrets whispered in darkened alleys. "But it irks me at the things I must do or condone to get there. I worry the path that Elene has to walk will lead us somewhere dark before the end."

To his surprise, his sister smiled at that. "That's why you're there with her. To help her. To make sure she doesn't fall along the wayside. Just like why I stay in that house. To help father."

"He can no longer be helped."

Moira shook her head. "I don't believe that. For as long as he draws breath, I'll do my part. One day, he can become the father he once was."

Letting out a slow breath, he studied her. The shining conviction in her eyes as she spoke, the firm set of her mouth. When did she grow up? Even trapped as she was in that barren, loveless house, she'd still managed to come out a better person that he was. He suddenly felt ashamed of his resentment to their father. He had to overcome this bitterness if he was ever to become a true knight carrying Helm's banner.

"I'm sorry I can't be with you through this," he said, lowering his gaze.

Moira's fingers were soft as they grazed his cheek. "Don't be. You're doing good work for the Order. I'm proud of you, you know that? Mother would be, too."

He swallowed, pushing down a plethora of emotions threatening to work their way up through his chest. Instead, he reached into the small satchel tied to his weapon belt. The gold pouch he pulled out clinked merrily as he handed it to his sister. In it was the entirety of his share of spoils from the weeks he'd spent with Elene's group, scant as it was.

"It doesn't cover what you need, but I hope it will tide you over for a bit more."

For some reason, her smile turned sad as she accepted the pouch. "Thank you. It…it means a lot."

"I wish I can stay longer but there's something I need to look into at the Bridge. Hopefully we'll get to see each other again soon."

Moira reached for his arm as he moved to stand. "You'll write to me, won't you?"

"Of course."

Smiling, he took in her features, marking the melancholy in her eyes. How he wished things could be different. If his father had died, he would have inherited the family estate and be able to provide for her every need. But sworn as he was to the Order, his duty came first. That was the pledge he took with the Watcher more than a decade ago, as a mere acolyte in the temple. He hoped things will change with his knighting. Maybe then he would be able to give Moira a new home. No matter what she believed, their father can rot in that derelict house for all he cared. The old man was never going to change his ways, forever haunted by demons of the past.

"I'll see you soon, Moira," he told her, even as the promise solidified in his heart.

"You'd better," she nudged him.

With a final hug, he departed. He managed not to look back as he left the rose garden – his mind spun at the gold his family needed. Surely that amount was just the tip of the iceberg. For as long as Saerk Farrahd was poaching their suppliers and customers, they would have to keep pumping money into the business to keep it afloat. And even then, they'd just be putting off inevitable doom. Anomen could see the writing on the wall. It was a testament to Moira's persistence that she thought something could be salvaged of that situation.

Eventually, though, the walk to the Bridge eased him out of dark musings. So much hustle and bustle brushed past him like background noise, the comforting buzz of the city he grew up in. He wondered what other great cities like Baldur's Gate and Calimshan were like. Helm's tenets were valued there just as it was everywhere in the Realms. It would be grand to venture to such places to bring the name of the Order as a knight one day. Grander still if he could bring Moira with her if he chose to settle somewhere else.

Lieutenant Aegisfield of the Athkatla City Watch was already waiting by the time he reached the garrison. Broad, sharp-eyed, no-nonsense, yet somehow the man managed to present himself as a fatherly sort nonetheless. While Elene and the others had been busy running shady errands for crooked thieves, he'd been hard at work helping Aegisfield investigate murders in the Bridge District. It angered him that for all the money the Council had at their disposal, not a single additional resource could be spared to bulk up the City Watch to deal with this new menace: a murderer who flayed his victims and left their corpses on the streets where he found them. Six lives had been lost already, and it didn't seem like the murderer would stop until he was caught.

"Morning, son. I heard you've been busy yesterday," Aegisfield greeted him with a knowing grin.

Anomen cleared his throat, quietly pleased at the recognition. "You heard about the circus?"

"Who didn't hear about the circus? Good work out there, you saved a lot of lives, I heard."

"Yes, well. Since you brought it up. Did the investigators have any idea who Kalah's benefactor was?"

"None whatsoever. Might as well have been made of wind." Then Aegisfield's lips curled in distaste. "The Cowled Ones are getting involved since it's definitely magic in nature, so I'd bet good money that's the last bit of investigating the City Watch will be doing."

Them again. It wouldn't surprise him one bit if they had been the ones behind the disaster in the first place. Mages and their misplaced artifacts and zero obligation to be responsible for their own mess.

"Nothing to concern yourself over, though. Better to deal with what we know," Aegisfield amended.

"Who gave you this lead?" Anomen prodded.

"A lady of the street named Rose Bouquet." He quirked a smile at Anomen's doubtful expression. "Don't mind the name, she's a regular around these parts. She said she distinctly remember smelling tannin the night she walked past the recent crime scene. There are a few tanners in and around the district but only one with a shop close enough to all the crime scenes."

"Who is this tanner then?"

"A Waterdhavian named Rejiek. Soft-spoken lad, he set up shop about a year or two ago. Keeps to himself. Excellent craftsmanship, from what the boys tell me. All his armours fit like second skin."

A flimsy lead to go on, but it made sense the more one thought about it. If anyone knew how to handle hide and flesh, it would be a tanner. He remembered the sketches Aegisfield showed of the previous bodies they'd found…all the victims were missing specific patches of skin, peeled away with surgical precision. They'd assumed the flaying was simply a trophy-taking obsession. Maybe there was more here than meets the eye. His blood warmed at the thought of single-handedly apprehending a murderer with Aegisfield in tow. It would certainly be a strong pointer for his knighthood test.

"We should head over there before they close shop for lunch," Anomen suggested.

Aegisfield glanced at him. "What about your friends? You don't want to wait for them?"

He shrugged. "We can leave a note. Ask them to head to the shop when they arrive. With Helm's blessing, everything will be dealt with by then."

"I suppose you're right," mused Aegisfield. "It's just a tanner, after all."

They didn't speak much on the way to the shop, despite Aegisfield's efforts to bring him into deeper conversation. His thoughts were focused on the task ahead. Even if this man is not their quarry, he could give pointers on what type of person would be collecting human skin, and what it could be used for. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if there was dark magic involved.

Before long, the tanner's shop lay ahead of them, nestled atop a rickety set of buildings held together by planks that looked older than he was. A part of the city forgotten by redevelopment and gentrification, a bastion for the industrious working classes. The stairs creaked dreadfully as he climbed them. More than once he checked the distance to the ground from his vantage point, wondering if the structure can support two armoured men. His fears were unfounded, however. Aegisfield gave him a long look as they stood before the front door, as if to say 'let me handle this', before pushing the door open with a gauntleted hand.

The first thing Anomen noticed was the smell. An overpowering scent of chemicals mingled with animal hide seared through his nose on entry, immediately rendering his olfactory system useless to detect anything else. The interior was cramped, stuffy, and uncomfortably warm. Sweat broke out on his temple within seconds of being inside. Tamping down his discomfort, he tried to focus instead on the rows of display shelves before him, all laden with various leather and hide armours of respectable make.

"Rejiek Hidesman?" Aegisfield called out, peering through the racks as he did.

"A pearl to you, gentlemen. How can I help?"

A mousy-looking man raised himself from behind the counter as he spoke, his arms laden with tools. He must have been rooting around back there as they entered. Anomen noted his toned arms, then his lined features smudged with soot and dark oils as he wiped his dirty hand across a sweat-slicked face. Didn't look like the dangerous type. If anything, he appeared utterly benign.

Aegisfield stepped closer to the counter. "How's business been doing of late?"

Taking the inspector's cue, Anomen hung back, watching closely as Aegisfield began to ask innocuous questions of the tanner. The man, Rejiek, looked relaxed as he chatted, his voice never rising above the soft-spoken decibel he greeted them with. Again, nothing suspicious of note. Until Aegisfield began to broach the topic of his whereabouts three nights ago. And the traces of tannin found not far from a flayed corpse. The man paused and took longer time to reply as the inspector's line of questioning began to get more personal, his body language shifting into defence. At that point, Anomen himself began to feel uneasy, a prickly sense of wrongness pressing in on him as he surveyed the cramped room with a critical eye. Whatever it was, it was coming from nearby. He brushed his holy symbol and began silently praying for a sign from Helm.

Then his eyes wandered to a stairwell at the end of the corridor, just over Rejiek's shoulder. He noticed Rejiek's gaze shift suddenly his way. A second after, every instinct in him screamed for him to move, and he jerked backwards just in time to avoid a well-aimed dagger thrown at his head. Using the dodge momentum, he then ducked sideways to put a shelf between him and his unseen attacker. Shouting ensued as Aegisfield grappled with Rejiek, who had lunged at him over the counter like a possessed man without warning.

Shouting a prayer to ward against evil, Anomen drew his sword and hefted his shield to charge to Aegisfield's rescue. Too late, he saw Rejiek scramble away with blood on his hands, beating a hasty retreat for the stairwell. Anomen hesitated. A part of him urged speed. To pursue the fleeing villain and put an end to him. But the pained wheezing from Aegisfield spurred him to drop to a knee before the older man instead, his hand glowing with healing magic. It took another stronger spell to rouse Aegisfield from his wound, a brutal stab into his side that would have been fatal had he not intervened so quickly.

"Easy. Breathe slowly," Anomen told him.

"You have to stop him," Aegisfield gasped through bloodied teeth.

The inspector will live. Setting his jaw, Anomen got to his feet. Rejiek was not alone. He would have to tread with care.

Another prayer to Helm and he found himself standing at the top of the ominous, twisting stairs. Darkness lay below. Taking a deep breath, he worked up the courage to climb down the steps. Every groaning floorboard stretched his nerves ever tauter as his mind conjured up traps and wicked ambushes. How he wished the rest of his group was there with him then.

As he neared the bottom of the steps, he gagged. A horrific stench wafted up towards him, no longer concealed by the leather and chemicals from above. Death. Worse, it was the stench of carrion, dead for days and left to rot. The room beyond was dark, with only a single torch left behind to light a large area. His heart raced as he paused, ears peeled for danger. Only the slow drip of water greeted him, and a distant sound of wood banging against wood from further below.

He raised a hand and called upon a light cantrip. And immediately wished he hadn't.

"Helm save us," he rasped.

Death…didn't even begin to describe the scene before him. Chunks of flesh hung off jagged hooks, floating like macabre windchimes from the ceiling. Some of them still dripped red. The floorboards were likewise caked in red, with tracks in the floor marking where something heavy was dragged across the room to the tables at one end of the room. Mutilated human corpses lay on one of those tables, flies buzzing around open chest cavities and bare flesh devoid of skin. Jars of unnamed parts lined the shelves stacked against the walls, along with odd-looking canvas stretched across wooden frames. Overwhelmed by horror, Anomen stumbled backwards to land awkwardly on his rump, then leaned sideways to expel his breakfast over the side of the stairs.

What…what in the Hells is this place?

Once he was done, he simply sat there for a while, gripping his holy symbol. Stared sightlessly at his surroundings. Such evil…by Helm, how can this exist right under the nose of the city watch? How long had Rejiek been doing this? How many people had fallen victim to the vile monster?

From the number of bodies and…parts that were strewn about the place, Rejiek's victims certainly numbered more than the six that had been found on the streets. He must have had accomplices. This was too much to be the work of a lone madman. Surfacing from his stupor, he fought to keep calm. His companions couldn't be far behind. They should be a quarter of an hour behind him at best. In the meantime, he had to secure the perimeter.

If only he had the power to cleanse the evil in this place in one fell wave. Grasping his holy symbol once more, he thought of Moira. He must forge on despite the danger.

Swallowing, he fumbled for his discarded sword. He clambered back to his feet, taking shallow breaths to keep the stench at bay as much as possible. His footsteps echoes with painful loudness as he continued down the steps, his heart hammering like a piston in his ribcage. The room below looked empty. Sounded empty. In contrast, his mind was an utter cacophony of questions. Where did Rejiek and his goons disappear to? Was there an underground network below the shop? How far did it extend to? How did they keep this racket out of sight of the authorities for so long?

He reached the bottom of the steps. As he took another step forward, his ankle caught on a taut line stretched across the floor. He cursed, rebalancing to avoid lurching onto his face. In so doing, he was too slow to sidestep something flying in from the opposite wall, aimed at chest height. The dart, as it turned out, punched clean through a weak interlocking point in his chest plate. He reeled backwards with a grunt, stumbling against the steps. Not wasting time, he yanked the dart out and tossed it away. Pulsing pain began to radiate from the impact point, and he focused inward for a spell to neutralise the poison already coursing through his veins.

As he battled the effects of the poison, his eyes combed the room again. Idiot. Of course the room was trapped. Wood shavings were scattered across the floor. Several planks looked uneven – no telling if they were part of the dilapidation personifying the place or hiding more surprises for the unwelcome intruder. He didn't have enough spells to counteract another poisoned dart. With a frustrated growl, he clambered back up the steps, leaning heavily against the wall halfway up.

No choice but to wait for reinforcements in that room of death.

Eventually, his ears attuned themselves to hum of near silence around him. The sounds from below had receded to nothing. No telling if there were more enemies lying in wait. Only the buzzing of flies accompanied him and his morbid thoughts as he waited. It wasn't too long before he heard the creak of a door from above. And voices. Finally, a loud exclamation as the new arrivals stumbled upon Aegisfield's prone form near the counter. It didn't take long for heavy boots to arrive at the top of the stairwell after that. He merely craned his head to peer upward, nodding at Jaheira as she appeared.

"You're late," he told her.

"And you are a fool. Why did you not wait for us?" she fired back without missing a beat. "You…what is that smell?"

He said nothing, merely turned his gaze back to the room below. Jaheira, to her credit, kept her composure as she stomped a few more steps downward. Her only reaction was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a prayer to Silvanus. Behind her, more boots followed. He recognised the soft-soled steps of Elene as she approached, only for her to halt abruptly when she treaded into visual range of what lay below them.

"What in the Hells…" Kivan trailed off into unintelligible cursing.

Yoshimo made a disgusted sound. "This is…what was he doing here?"

For a moment, the new arrivals stood in a shocked cluster in the stairwell, trying to process what they were looking at. Jaheira was the first to recover.

"Where did he go?" she prompted.

"Down those stairs." Anomen gestured to another stairwell across the room. A part of him marvelled at the blandness of his voice. It was as if the malevolence of the place had sapped every ounce of outrage from him. "He's not alone, and this room is trapped."

"If that's the case…" Elene brushed past him on the narrow stairwell.

Anomen watched as Elene ventured into the horror chamber with great care, her fingers brushing the spellbook strapped to her belt, like a good luck charm. Hopefully the situation would not require her chancing an encounter with the Cowled Wizards. No magic was needed to disable traps, though. As he suspected, the room was filled with more hidden tripwires, invisible to the untrained eye. His charge would have been very abrupt indeed if he'd continued onwards alone. And Elene knew it too, judging from the relieved look she gave him. From there, they moved forward tightly as a unit, with Elene at the lead in stealth. Indeed, even more traps lay in wait in the next stairwell.

When they reached the bottom, two men lunged from the darkness hoping to catch them unawares. A tense fight in dim light ensued, Anomen struggling with the lack of darkvision to parry rapid-fire strikes from what seemed to be skilled assassins, and even a few ghouls. His hands were too tied up to even pause for a light cantrip. Kivan's arrows made a difference, though, his aim quick and true even with the tight corners, while Elene made sure the assassins couldn't slip in and out of stealth by tossing a handful of glittering dust onto them. Jaheira's call for light made them all but shimmer in the gloom, a child's play for their archers to settle the score.

Once they'd cleared the ambush, the underground passage led to a wooden platform connected to a makeshift pier, with calm but murky waters leading to a tunnel leading to the docks. Loose ropes floated in the water like reaching tendrils in the darkness.

The boat that had been tied to the pier was long gone.

For a long moment, Anomen lingered on the flimsy planks, gazing into the darkened tunnels beyond. He thought bitterly of the old saying from one of his tutors. Something about closing the barn door after the horse has bolted. Jaheira didn't have to say anything. The reproving look she shot him before turning away told him enough. Of course, they had broken the back of whatever evil operation taking place in the Bridge District, but with the mastermind's escape, Anomen was left to wonder if he would come to rue his mistake one day.

.

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Author's Note:

Sorry for the long break! I've reorganised my outline, and have trimmed down certain plotlines to give the story a bit more focus.

Unfortunately that means cutting out Aerie's storyline in its entirety. I realised that based on how I'd written her, Aerie functioned mostly as a plot device in the story and that her function could be replaced by another event. As a result, the only meaningful thing to come out of the circus plot was Elene getting her hands on a spellbook for future shenanigans. It's a bummer, I'd already written out a few chapters outlining Aerie's struggles (I still think she's an interesting character to explore), but decided that it's better this way, the story is just tighter.

Anyway, onward with the show. So many plot threads to weave in, so little time. :)