3 days later
The sunlight streamed through the grand arched window of the Princess's solar, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. From her seat by the window, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself gazed out at the sprawling city below. The rooftops of Re-Estize glistened faintly in the morning light, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, and the distant hum of the marketplace reached her ears even here, high above it all.
Renner, as composed and serene as ever, was the picture of noble refinement. Her delicate hands cradled a porcelain teacup, her golden hair shimmering like spun sunlight in the warm glow. Across from her sat Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra, resplendent in noble finery that seemed a world away from her usual adventurer's garb. Her dress of deep royal blue, trimmed with gold embroidery, perfectly complemented the occasion—a private morning tea with the Golden Princess.
Between them, a small table bore a silver tray laden with delicately arranged biscuits and a steaming teapot. The two women chatted lightly, their voices melodic as they traded bits of gossip, polite laughter punctuating the conversation.
"...and so, in the end, he tripped over his own feet," Lakyus said with a smile, setting down her teacup. "I don't think I've ever seen a lord look so red. I thought he might burst on the spot."
Renner let out a soft, bell-like laugh, her sapphire-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Poor thing. It must have been dreadful for him. Though I can't imagine why he would be so clumsy in such an important setting. Was the banquet as lovely as they say?"
"Oh, exquisite," Lakyus replied, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she leaned back slightly. "Though, as you might expect, the company was less refined than the food. Still, it served its purpose."
Renner tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening. "You always make light of these things, Lakyus, but I know how hard you work to ensure everything goes smoothly. It's a great comfort to me to know you're there, lending your strength."
The faintest flicker of discomfort crossed Lakyus's face, though she quickly hid it behind a practiced smile. "Your Highness, you give me far too much credit. Without your guidance and influence, much of what we've accomplished would still be a distant dream."
Renner took another sip of tea, her expression as tranquil as ever. "Oh, I don't know about that. You and your companions are more capable than I could ever hope to be." She set her cup down with a delicate clink. "But please, tell me more about your latest endeavors. I find it so reassuring to hear of the progress being made. It warms my heart to know that the kingdom has people like you."
Lakyus hesitated for a moment, her hands resting in her lap. She had learned over time how to tread carefully in these conversations with the Princess—how to balance honesty with tact, and how to offer enough detail to satisfy Renner's curiosity without upsetting her delicate sensibilities.
"Well," she began, carefully choosing her words, "there was an operation recently. We managed to... disrupt some less-than-savory activities in the countryside. A rather... disreputable noble's holdings, to be precise."
Renner's expression didn't change, though her eyes seemed to brighten just slightly. "Disreputable? That's putting it kindly, I imagine."
Lakyus allowed herself a small, conspiratorial smile. "Very kindly. But suffice it to say, the effort wasn't wasted. The individuals responsible for their misdeeds have been... corrected. And their victims, thankfully, are now free from their influence."
"That's wonderful news," Renner said, her voice soft but carrying a weight of sincerity. "I knew I could count on you. Your dedication is truly inspiring, Lakyus."
"It's your vision that inspires us, Your Highness," Lakyus replied, lowering her gaze slightly. "Without your efforts to bring together like-minded allies, we would be scattered, trying to fight battles far greater than ourselves."
Renner's delicate hands folded in her lap, and for a moment, she gazed out the window, her expression thoughtful. "It's comforting to know we're making a difference. The kingdom's wounds are deep, but with time, perhaps they can heal."
Lakyus nodded, her own resolve evident in her eyes. "They will, Your Highness. So long as we stay vigilant."
The two women sat in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of their shared mission unspoken but deeply understood.
Renner broke the silence, her voice soft but tinged with genuine concern. "And you, Lakyus? You and your companions—are you all truly well? Please, do not hide anything from me. As your friend, I would rather know the truth than be comforted by false reassurances."
Lakyus's gaze flickered to the delicate porcelain teacup in her hands, her fingers tracing the rim as she considered her reply. "We're fine, Your Highness," she said with a small, reassuring smile. "A few scrapes and bruises, but nothing we couldn't handle."
Renner tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes searching Lakyus's face for any hint of withheld truths. "Lakyus, you mustn't spare my feelings. I know the dangers you face for the good of this kingdom. If there is anything troubling you, I want to help."
Lakyus hesitated, the brief pause unnoticed by most but not by Renner. Her thoughts drifted back to the events of that fateful night, to the clash in the courtyard. She took a measured breath, collecting her thoughts before speaking again.
"There was... something," she admitted, her tone measured. "An anomaly. During our last raid, we encountered someone—someone unexpected."
Renner's brows furrowed ever so slightly, her delicate fingers resting on the table. "Unexpected? What do you mean?"
"A man," Lakyus replied, her voice growing quieter as she chose her words carefully. "At first, we thought him a lackey of Eight Fingers—a grunt left behind to protect their interests. But that assumption..." She trailed off, shaking her head lightly. "It didn't hold."
Renner leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Why not? Was he formidable?"
Lakyus nodded, her expression resolute. "He fought us, Your Highness. Matched us, even when we worked in unison. It was clear he was skilled, perhaps extraordinarily so, but nothing more. In the end, his decision to flee suggests he recognized his disadvantage."
Renner tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Should he be a concern?"
Lakyus waved a hand lightly, dismissing the notion. "I don't believe so. Logically, someone skilled yet outmatched would retreat when facing unfavorable odds. I doubt it was anything beyond that." Her voice carried confidence, but the faintest flicker of unease touched her eyes—a detail Renner didn't miss.
"Still," Lakyus continued, "I'll have the team remain vigilant. If he surfaces again, we'll be ready."
Renner's gaze lingered on her friend for a moment longer, her serene expression betraying none of the questions racing through her mind. Then, with a small smile, she inclined her head. "Very well. I trust your judgment, Lakyus. You've never given me reason to doubt it."
Lakyus returned the smile, though her fingers tightened slightly on her teacup. Deep down, a sliver of doubt pressed against her pride. The battle had been unlike any she'd faced before, and while her logic provided comforting answers, a small, nagging voice whispered the possibility of something greater.
Renner reached for a biscuit, her movements delicate and measured. "Regardless, it seems your efforts continue to bear fruit. It's reassuring to know we're making progress, no matter the obstacles."
"Indeed, Your Highness," Lakyus replied, her tone steady once more. "Together, we'll see this through."
The morning air at the gates of E-Rantel carried a chill, the faint mist clinging to the ground as the city stirred to life. Merchants and travelers shuffled in line, their carts laden with goods, their voices hushed in the early light. Guards stood vigilant, their eyes scanning the growing crowd, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.
Among them, a lone figure stepped forward.
The man cut a striking figure, his attire blending the practical with the refined. His coat, deep black with silver embroidery, fit snugly over a lightweight cuirass, its polished plates catching the light in muted glints. Beneath the coat, his boots rose high along his legs, their edges trimmed with a subtle pattern that hinted at both utility and elegance.
At his hip hung a blade unlike any in the region—a curved sword with a slight flare, its hilt adorned with intricate designs that shimmered faintly with a magical sheen. The scabbard bore similar embellishments, runes etched into its surface in a language long forgotten. Opposite it rested a dagger, its sleek design an echo of the sword, its purpose unmistakable.
A wide-brimmed hat sat atop his head, its plume swaying gently in the breeze. The hat's edges were adorned with subtle stitching that caught the eye only when the light struck it just so, a testament to its craftsmanship. The plume, crimson and vibrant, stood out against the subdued tones of his armor, a quiet declaration of individuality.
His tunic, visible beneath the coat's open folds, bore a faint cross-stitching pattern along the collar, a detail easy to miss yet impossible to forget once seen. The fabric, a dark charcoal, seemed both durable and refined, a seamless blend of function and form.
He bore no visible insignias, no marks of allegiance or house. Yet he moved with quiet confidence, of purpose.
As he approached the gates, his gaze swept over the guards, his amber eyes sharp and calculating. They stiffened under his scrutiny, their hands tightening instinctively on their weapons, though the man made no hostile move.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances before one stepped forward, his voice cautious but firm. "State your name and purpose."
The man paused, his hand brushing briefly against the hilt of his sword, more a gesture of habit than threat. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hat's brim.
"Merely a traveler," he said at last, his voice smooth and even. "Seeking passage into the city."
The guard frowned but nodded, motioning for him to step aside. "Your weapons will need to be peace-bound within the walls. Standard procedure."
The man's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course."
With practiced ease, he drew the sword slightly from its scabbard, just enough for the guard to glimpse the gleaming blade. The guard's eyes lingered on the weapon for a moment, the craftsmanship clearly beyond anything he had seen.
"It's... impressive," the guard muttered before quickly shaking his head. "Bind it."
The man obliged, watching silently as the guards wrapped a strip of cloth around the hilt and scabbard, securing it in place. The dagger received the same treatment, though their unease was palpable as they handled the weapons.
Once finished, the guards stepped back, their relief evident as they waved him through. He tipped his hat slightly in acknowledgment, his plume dipping briefly as he passed beneath the city's archway.
E-Rantel sprawled before him, its streets bustling even at this early hour. He paused just beyond the gate, his gaze sweeping over the marketplace, the towering walls, the distant spires of temples and manors. A faint smile played on his lips—small, enigmatic, gone as quickly as it appeared.
With a deliberate stride, he moved forward, vanishing into the flow of the city's crowd like a shadow dissolving into the light.
The market buzzed with life, the streets of E-Rantel a maze of jostling bodies and vibrant stalls. Merchants barked their pitches, voices blending into a low roar, while the mingled scents of roasted meat, spiced cider, and freshly tanned leather drifted through the cool morning air.
Tia and Tina moved through the chaos like threads through a loom, their twin figures drawing glances from passersby. They ignored the stares, their focus on the path ahead as they threaded through the crowd.
Tia's eyes flicked to the list in her hand, her tone curt as she spoke. "The smithy first. We're behind schedule."
Tina stifled a sigh, her gaze wandering to the colorful stalls they passed. "It wouldn't kill us to look around for a minute. You know, pretend we're here for more than broken daggers and empty potion bottles."
Tia glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. "You can play tourist later. Right now, we need to be ready for the next job."
"Always the next job," Tina muttered, but she quickened her pace, falling into step behind her sister.
The smithy was tucked into a corner of the market, its entrance framed by heavy wooden beams darkened from years of exposure to heat and soot. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of molten metal and coal, the steady clang of hammer on anvil echoing through the space.
The smith looked up as they entered, his leathery face breaking into a grin. "The twin shadows. Been wondering when I'd see you two again."
"Busy," Tia replied briskly, unsheathing a short blade and placing it on the counter. The edge was nicked and dulled, the wear from their last mission evident. "Repairs. And we need the usual restock."
The smith picked up the blade, turning it over in his hands. "This one's seen better days. What were you cutting? Rocks?"
"Something like that," Tia said dryly.
Tina, meanwhile, had drifted to a nearby display of daggers, her fingers brushing the hilts as she examined their craftsmanship. "Got anything new?" she asked, her tone casual but with a spark of interest.
The smith chuckled, setting Tia's blade down. "Just came in from Baharuth—imports. Fine steel, light and balanced. Perfect for someone like you."
He pulled out a tray of sleek, curved daggers, their polished surfaces gleaming in the firelight. Tina picked one up, testing its weight and balance with a practiced flick of her wrist.
"Not bad," she murmured, her lips quirking in approval. "Feels good."
"Don't even think about it," Tia said without looking up, her tone as sharp as the blade in Tina's hand.
"What?" Tina said, feigning innocence as she set the dagger back on the tray. "You said we were restocking."
"Restocking essentials," Tia shot back. "Not blowing our budget on toys you don't need."
Tina stuck out her tongue but returned the dagger to the display. "Fine, fine. But don't blame me if the old gear fails mid-fight."
The smith chuckled again, taking the damaged weapons Tia had handed over and laying them on his workbench. "Come back in a couple of hours, and they'll be good as new."
"Thanks," Tia said, handing over a small pouch of coins. "We'll be back."
They stepped back into the crowded street, the cacophony of the market enveloping them once more. Tia glanced at the list in her hand, her expression thoughtful. "Next stop—potions. We're running low."
"Of course we are," Tina said with a sigh. "Why do you always let Gagaran carry the stash? She drinks them like they're wine."
"Because she needs them like wine," Tia replied dryly, heading toward an alchemist's stall. Tina followed, her steps lighter now, her eyes darting toward the various displays they passed.
As the twins moved through the market, the city seemed alive around them—children darting between stalls, merchants shouting over one another, and guards patrolling the edges with watchful eyes. It was a familiar chaos, one they navigated with the ease of those who had lived it for years.
Tia halted mid-stride, her body tensing like a string drawn taut. The subtle shift was almost imperceptible to the bustling crowd, but Tina caught it immediately from the corner of her eye. She had been inspecting a set of alchemical ingredients at a nearby stall, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a glass vial, but her sister's sudden stillness set her instincts on edge.
She didn't react overtly, keeping her movements casual as she set the vial back in its place and shifted her gaze toward Tia. "What is it?" she asked quietly, her tone light enough not to raise suspicion but laced with the sharpness of readiness.
Tia's eyes flicked to her twin, her head inclining ever so slightly toward a cluster of stalls ahead. "There," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the market's clamor.
Tina followed her sister's subtle gesture, her gaze sweeping the area without betraying her interest. At first, she saw nothing unusual—just the usual mix of merchants, shoppers, and travelers milling about in the tightly packed space. She scanned each figure methodically, her practiced eye taking in their dress and demeanor: a merchant gesturing animatedly to a customer, a city guard standing near a corner with a bored expression, a pair of adventurers haggling over a set of worn gauntlets.
Then she saw him.
The man stood near a weapons stall, his presence understated yet commanding. His attire, at a glance, resembled that of a decorated officer or perhaps an adventurer of higher standing. The polished armor he wore was functional yet elegant, its dark finish offset by subtle silver embellishments. At his hip rested a curved blade in a scabbard marked with intricate designs, and on the other side, a dagger hung, its purpose unmistakable.
But it was the hat that drew her attention—a wide-brimmed, plumed affair that seemed more suited to a nobleman than a warrior. The crimson plume swayed lightly with his movements, its vivid color stark against the muted tones of his attire. He moved with deliberate ease, his hand briefly brushing the hilt of his blade as he examined a display of swords. There was nothing overtly threatening in his posture, yet something about him gnawed at her instincts.
Tina leaned slightly closer to Tia, her voice low. "What about him? Just looks like an officer—or a well-funded adventurer, maybe. What's got you spooked?"
Tia's expression didn't waver, her gaze still fixed on the man. "Look closer," she said. "Doesn't quite fit, does he?"
Tina frowned but didn't respond immediately. She studied the man again, more carefully this time, letting her gaze linger on the details. The way he carried himself—relaxed but alert, as though completely at ease in the crowd yet always aware of it. The faint marks of wear on his armor, suggesting use in battle, yet the craftsmanship was far too refined for the usual soldier or city guard. The sword at his side—unlike any she'd seen, its design elegant but foreign.
And then there was his demeanor. It wasn't arrogance, exactly, but a quiet confidence that spoke of experience, as though the bustling crowd around him was of little consequence. He moved with purpose, yet not with the aimless wander of a traveler or the determined stride of someone on urgent business. He seemed... out of place, and yet entirely comfortable with that fact.
Tina's brows furrowed, her hand casually brushing the hilt of one of her daggers. "He doesn't look like trouble," she said, though her tone was less certain now. "Maybe just passing through. A mercenary, maybe?"
"Maybe," Tia replied, her voice neutral. "But something feels... off. Keep an eye on him."
Tina nodded, her demeanor relaxed as she turned back to the stall she had been browsing. Outwardly, she seemed to lose interest, her focus returning to the alchemical wares before her. But her senses remained sharp, her awareness stretched thin over the crowd as she tracked the man from the corner of her eye.
The man lingered at the weapons stall a moment longer, his fingers brushing the edge of a blade on display before he moved on, his stride unhurried. As he disappeared into the throng, Tina risked a glance at her sister. Tia's expression remained unreadable, her gaze fixed on the path the man had taken.
"Think he's dangerous?" Tina asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tia didn't answer immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I don't know yet. But let's not wait to find out the hard way."