Ophilia and Alfyn follows sisters Afia and Gina to the living and gathering quarters afforded the clergy in Noblecourt. It is located in a large house with its own small courtyard away from the church grounds. Immediately upon entry, Alfyn notices some children in the yard, dressed in white robes and being read a story by a nun. They seem utterly absorbed.

"That's real cute," Alfyn chuckles quietly, "The kids come here?"

"They're orphans," Ophilia whispers back to the apothecary, "The church will often take in children found on their doorstep and have them raised by the nuns in the same place..."

"Ohh…"

"You must have come a long way to Noblecourt, sister," Afia gives a small smile and nods, "Please join us in the mess hall for refreshment."

The convent mess hall is less grand than that of Flamesgrace, appearing much humbler with a low ceiling and worn Romanesque curves and pillars. A long, wooden table with matching benches serves as the dining area.

"We should eat first. The children will be having their snack soon," Gina goes to the kitchen as Afia sits with Ophilia and Alfyn.

"Thank you so much for the hospitality," Ophilia lightly bows her head, "I hope not to be staying too long and imposing…"

"Oh, nonsense. Whatever brings you and your friend to Noblecourt? We hadn't any news about new missionaries coming here," Afia tilts her head.

"We're here on some errands," Alfyn smiles apologetically, "I'm kinda just lookin' around to help anyone that needs it!"

"Ah, yes, you're an apothecary," Gina comes over with a basket of bread and bowl of stew, "Please, help yourselves."

"Mm…!" Alfyn doesn't waste much time and takes a bite eagerly.

"I was hoping to inquire, actually, about a spectacle that occurred in the city as we were walking here…" Ophilia looks to the two sisters, "A murder… in broad daylight! It was so strange and frightening… and people were whispering that it was the doing of the city lord?"

Afia and Gina seem to exchange glances. Gina sighs and nods, "… It is as you say. Noblecourt is an affluent place… But greed is never far from such a place. And where greed comes, do other vices."

"Greed?" Ophilia raises an eyebrow.

"This city has people with deep pockets, like the city lord. He uses it to silence those that would speak out against him or any of his allied aristocrats," Afia lowers her voice, "We try to avoid discussion of that kind of thing here at the convent…"

Alfyn frowns a bit as he swallows his bread, "Those guards at the plaza… They wouldn't even lemme help the poor guy… And they just pushed his sweetheart away…"

"Well, the guard is the city lord's lapdog…" Afia shakes her head, "It is a strange thing. The crime lies within the city, made from it, rather than outside… It's almost like living in a den guarded by a monster…"

"How terrible…!" Ophilia exclaims, "The church …"

"We are luckily spared much of the politics. Many patrons like to retain an image of piety… However, if people decide that they wish to turn their backs on the gods someday…" Gina folds her arms and frowns, "It would be dark days indeed."

"That's terrible… Other people are at their mercy, though…" Ophilia puts a hand to her chin, "A lord that wantonly murders his own townsmen is unthinkable. And the church knows of this…?"

"We are not knights, sister Ophilia," Gina looks squarely at the cleric, "We can provide peace to those who come to pray… but we cannot simply stand against the ones who control the city. They would destroy the church, drive us out, or worse… and we have young ones to think about."

"Shucks…" Alfyn frowns, "You guys got yer hands tied…"

"Pray tell, your business… the errand here," Afia asks cautiously, "Doesn't have anything to do with these current affairs, I hope?"

"Well, no. We only saw what was going on as we were coming here…" Ophilia sighs, "But this city lord and his aristocrats are the cause of this? How long as it been so?"

"Well, that would be… around 10 years ago. That was when the city watch that used to maintain the city suffered a blow … Their leader, the house of Azelhart, was slain," Gina recounts, "With the city watch gone, a lot of shadowy figures were able to start acting more freely. The aristocrats that had been watched were able to expand on businesses that formerly would be policed, and that invited other vultures…"

"The Obsidians…" Afia whispers.

"Obsidians?" Alfyn stands a bit too quick that he surprises everyone around him, "Those guys're here?"

"Shh!" Afia puts a finger to her lips as a warning, "Yes… I assume you've heard of them… though I am not surprised."

"We… have met some of their dealings outside this city," Ophilia pats Alfyn's arm for him to sit back down, "I didn't think they would be here as well…"

"It's not a very big secret… they are seen as a legitimate partner with the city lord and his cronies. The headman's old house has even been renamed to Obsidian Manse," Gina shakes her head in exasperation, "They are a rather wretched lot that can deal in blood as well as money."

"… Hm. We oughta tell the others," Alfyn looks to Ophilia, "I gotta hunch this is gonna be trouble down the road."

"Mm… Thank you so much for your hospitality, sisters Afia and Gina. We must be off," Ophilia nods.

"It's nothing. I've been wanting to get some of that off my chest," Gina scratches her head, "But you both should watch yourselves in Noblecourt, understood?"

Ophilia and Alfyn thank the nuns again before leaving the convent. By now, the children file in for their snack time. Some of the outgoing ones wave to Alfyn as they go, seeing he looks very differently dressed than a priest or nun. Alfyn returns the gesture with a grin of his own.

Tressa lets out a defeated sigh, plopping onto the bed in the inn within west Noblecourt. Her run through the market had yielded nothing exciting. After that, she obliged with Cyrus' whims and they went to look at some art museum in east Noblecourt. While Cyrus found plenty to chat about, the merchant couldn't find anything worth her while there. The obnoxious curator that was chatting it up with Cyrus wouldn't shut up about some piece of art he'd found down south... but, to be honest, Tressa far preferred what she had seen on Leon's ship.

Olberic chuckles softly seeing Tressa's reaction. The warrior himself held his tongue through the entire art exhibition with Tressa. The merchant had actually argued with the curator a bit on some of the pieces, pointing out how parts of paintings were supposedly lacking in values or cohesive style... the sort of things Olberic didn't find much fun in listening to.

There was one piece that did strike his fancy though, and understandably so.

"Hey, don't laugh!" Tressa looks up with a pout at the warrior from the bed, "I had to schlep the whole time with not a treasure to be found! You oughta feel sorry for me!"

"I thought you would not take well to pity," Olberic chuckles some more.

Tressa sighs loudly, "Even you at least had fun at the museum..."

"I would hardly say fun..."

"You really liked that sculpture," Tressa sits up, "What was it, anyway? It didn't look anything special. The curator even said he picked it up through some random trade with Everhold. And my scales weren't tingling either..."

"... It was an old statue of King Beowulf, the founder of Hornburg, and second prince of the kingdom of Bernstein," Olberic folds his arms and looks a bit nostalgic, "The base was carved with High Hornburgian, saying the spirit of the king watches over the kingdom always..."

"Oh. So, I guess it was something that belonged," Tressa shrugs, "You guys probably had a lot of those, huh?"

"Aye. That one in particular was a gift from Altinia... They were allies with Hornburg, though also an official vassal kingdom," Olberic sighs, "It is strange to see such things on display as if they were lost so long ago, when I remember them from my youth."

"The kingdom fell recently, or something, right?" Tressa tilts her head.

"...Yes. It happened I think... after you were born, even."

"Anno 1610!" Cyrus announces with his entry as he enters their room from the water closet, "Come now, you both should know this! The fall of Hornburg was consequent to years of built-up strife among the aristocracy, which exploded in 1610, with the death of King Alfred. A civil war ensued, and consumed the nation in the same year."

"Way to make everything boring," Tressa sighs, "And I still didn't find a single thing to take to the treasure fair."

"The curator knows well of his wares and his arts," Cyrus nods, not acknowledging any badmouthing, "He even knows of the ancient realm of Ferien, predecessor of kingdoms Riven and Altinia! They were around King Beowulf's time as well. Their gift of tapestry is a lost treasure..."

"Tapestry, huh... That sounds pretty nice. But we haven't run into any that were super good," Tressa stretches and glances out the window, "Yeesh, it's already getting late! We oughta think about dinner when the others get back!"

"Well, the best-known foods in Noblecourt include... ergo, mutton!" Cyrus announces dramatically, "Harvested from the large ovine creatures that graze the flatland in the surrounding areas. Some of them can be as belligerent as a Highland goat or even a meep! Twas good fortune we didn't encounter them on our ride here, I suppose..."

Olberic wonders to himself if Therion and H'aanit completed whatever they were doing. He looks to Tressa, "I will stand outside the inn and keep an eye about for the others. Let them know we are here."

"Sure, knock yourself out," Tressa seems to think a moment, "Since we bought the room, we can probably look around. There's gotta be a watering hole for the travelers nearby! That's just common-sense business!"

"It's good to see you are not discouraged after your search today!" Cyrus nods.

"Well, now we look for food. It's different!" Tressa wags a finger at the scholar.

Outside the inn, they can look out at the marketplace of west Noblecourt from a lower point, before the westernmost plaza. There seems to be a decent gathering of people still there.

"Hm? Oh, those merchants weren't there before, now were they?" Cyrus notes observantly at some new displays, "Their wares... appear to be of Sunland origin from the looks of design."

"Ehh!" Tressa makes a beeline to get a better look.

Indeed, a person wearing traveling clothes and bearing exotic-looking jugs addresses a moderate portion of the crowd. He waves a hand over the clay jugs.

"I'm back, good people of Noblecourt! I'm sure many of you were awaiting my return with this limited oasis water from the heart of Sunshade itself! Behold, the most refreshing beverage in the realm! Free of any impurities and all-natural!" The merchant hollers his pitch eagerly, "Come, come! One sip and you will know what real water is! You there! Care for a sample?"

"How exquisite!" One taster exclaims.

"I still haven't forgotten the last bottle I brought..." Some repeat patrons murmur.

"Only 40,000 leaves a jar! 1,000 for a bottle!"

Tressa gawks at those prices. It's just water, isn't it?

Then, she spots a familiar shape in the crowd. It's Linde the leopard.

"Huh?" Tressa glances around some more. If Linde is here, then H'aanit isn't far behind...

And, sure enough, she spots the huntress standing a slight distance from the crowd. Wasn't she paired with Therion, though? Then, where is the thief...

Tressa's jaw almost drops as she sees Therion right by the Sunland merchant's side. Given people passing and going, he doesn't stand out at all. But her senses are tingling. He's got to be up to no good!

To the unassuming gaze, Therion passed by behind the merchant and then looped back around seamlessly. He walks over to where H'aanit is, seemingly having found the person he was looking for. Tressa quickly darts over to them by the low stone wall on the plaza edge.

"Hey!" She shouts to get their attention as she approaches and waves, "You two hanging out here, too?"

"Hm? Ah, Tressa," H'aanit acknowledges her, "Aye, we weren... not hanging, but standing here."

"Uh huh..." Tressa narrows her focus now onto the thief, "So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes and no," Therion says simply.

"I saw you looked kinda interested in the water guy over there," Tressa juts a thumb at the merchant still hawking his oasis elixir, "Didn't figure you the type?"

"What's he even selling? Water?" Therion smirks, "That's overpriced if I ever heard it."

H'aanit looks about to say something, but she shakes her head and just folds her arms. Linde is occupying herself playing with some abandoned broken rope dangling along the wall, likely used prior to anchor something.

"Hmm..." Tressa pouts but says nothing more, since she didn't exactly see any theft herself. She needed to develop another pair of eyes at this rate if she was going to keep her stuff safe from this thief.

"Haven thee found what thou sought?" H'aanit asks the merchant now.

"Uh, no... Who woulda guessed this place would be so rich and not have any treasure?" Tressa sighs.

"You think people leave their treasure out for you to see?" Therion scoffs, "You're gonna have to get better at this quick, because you won't find anything valuable that way."

"Huh? Whaddayou mean? Valuable things are usually on display to be sold! Anything kept secret is probably not for sale," Tressa folds her arms.

"Which makes it even more valuable," Therion counters smugly, "See?"

"Is your answer always to just... take what's not yours?" Tressa sighs, choosing her words with slight tact, "I don't wanna enter something to the Grandport contest that's gonna get me arrested!"

"Whatever," Therion shrugs.

"We're at the inn, by the way. Ask for party Colzione," Tressa points at the inn, "Not sure what we're gonna have for dinner yet, but you guys coming?"

"Aye. We comen shortly," H'aanit shares a brief glance with Therion.

The huntress and thief watch as Tressa returns over to the inn area. H'aanit sighs.

"... Now goen we back to the ... Barham person, yes?"

"Yeah," Therion adjusts his poncho collar and starts back for Barham's house, "The guy better be ready to squeal."

Linde follows as they go back through the derelict and abandoned path of trees. Therion curiously breaks the silence.

"You don't have to come. The guy's pretty harmless."

"Hm. Tis better safe than sorry," H'aanit replies curtly.

"You don't exactly like what I do. Sticking around is just masochistic," Therion teases.

"...? It doth not botheren me so much," H'aanit shakes her head slowly, "Thou need not defend thine method. We aren comrades."

"..." Therion doesn't say anything on the subject. They get to the house and he knocks sharply on the door. Barham greets him once more, and with an expectant hand already out.

Lo and behold, upon handing the water over to Barham, the thief is once again saddled with a new task without so much as a thank you. Now, the researcher wants a wyvern scale.

"Where the hell am I supposed to get that?" Therion asks with some obvious cross tone in his voice. But he's not seething just yet.

"Merchants. The scales are valuable to researchers. There's no way a greedy merchant wouldn't have some ready to sell at some high price in town," Barham retorts, "Anyways, off you go. I must tend to my experiment."

The windows of this building are blocked up, but H'aanit can glimpse past Barham into the interior. It is well-lit inside. She sees things that she didn't recognize, made of glass and such... it vaguely reminded her of items from Gideon's lab, or even Russell's underground keep. Linde sniffs the air curiously.

"Anyways, I don't care so much how you get it. You have your methods and I have my requirements," Barham says before briskly shutting the door.

"..." Therion sighs and looks up at the darkening sky, "... Fuck it, I'll look for it tomorrow."

"Doen he sleepen in there?" H'aanit asks inquisitively.

"Hells if I know or care," Therion scowls and starts walking away, "Let's go to the inn and get some food."

"Doth thou think thou can trusten him?" The huntress asks as they walk back.

"He's not gonna be able to swindle me, if that's what you're asking," Therion sighs irritably, "He's also the only lead I got for now... if it doesn't work out, I got ways to get him to spill."

"He hath various items in that house. Linde hath odd odors smelt. Tis not blood, but of heated rocks and such..."

"Researchers are basically scholars, but they fiddle around with this stuff rather than magic. I told you this."

"Hm..." H'aanit frowns on the side but says nothing more on the matter, "It doth worryen me whatten he be doing with the things thou giveth."

"Probably some pet project that doesn't concern me," The thief dismisses her concern.

...

The party ultimately reunites at the inn in West Noblecourt as planned. For dinner, they decide on a small outdoor shack in the market plaza offering grilled skewers. It seems to be a popular spot due to lower prices than the tavern. However, the open space also could attract unsavory business.

"Mm, so what's dish again?" Alfyn asks with his mouth full.

"Grilled meep," The cook answers grumpily as he presides over the smoking grill.

"Who would've thought you find street food like this in a posh city?" Tressa chuckles as she takes a bite, "It'll do!"

"Hmf, smoke complaints and whatnot..." The cook grumbles under his breath, "Well, doesn't matter now."

"It is good, though!" Ophilia tries to sound helpful.

"Meep is a creature not too dissimilar from the domesticated swine, and is believed to be a cousin to its ancestor, that being the wild boar. No wonder its flavor is just like that of typical pork. However, there is notably less fat and a higher level of chewiness in texture..." Cyrus rubs his chin.

"What are you, a cook now?" Tressa sighs.

"The culinary arts do often escape me, unfortunately... Thus, I must make every effort I can to learn of it!"

"If he cooked, the kitchen burns," Therion mutters, roughly ripping a chunk of meat off with his teeth.

"How's it taste, Therion?" Alfyn looks to the thief hopefully, "It's good right?"

"It's edible," The thief replies with a deadpan face.

"Say, where's Prim?" Tressa looks around their little gathered group, "She and Simeon are the only ones not here!"

"Hmm..." Olberic glances around and then seems relieved for a second, "Here she comes."

"Ah, Prim!" Tressa stands and waves, "We're over here!"

The merchant sees the dancer and playwright approach. Primrose looks her usual, and Simeon gives a friendly smile.

"Ah, apologies! It seems we are the last to arrive!" Simeon chuckles, "My, time flies indeed when sightseeing!"

"Thou weren seeing the sights?" H'aanit thinks back to the scene she saw from afar in the cemetery.

"Yes, we were visiting some old places for nostalgia's sake," Simeon glances around them, "My, it smells nice."

"Did you enjoy coming back?" Olberic asks the dancer as he hands her a skewer.

"It was nice," Primrose replies simply as she takes the food, "Thank you. Did you all enjoy the city?"

"It's so big and, um, there's a lot of nice houses," Ophilia gives a small smile, "And it's not like Atlasdam, either."

"It's alright," Tressa sighs, "But what about you guys that came to do stuff? Let's get it done so we can go quick!"

"Oh, you're in a hurry to go already, miss merchant?" Simeon blinks.

"Well, I mean, this place isn't a destination for me. Or for Alf, for example!" Tressa ropes Alfyn into it, "So, who actually has stuff to do here?"

"Well, I was admittedly distracted today with the museum and such, but I do want to look into possible leads on Salomon's writings, as lady Susanna suggested. That is what I shall endeavor to do for the remainder of the time here," Cyrus says affirmatively.

"Did you find anything about Redeye here?" Ophilia looks to H'aanit.

"Nay... But I willen ask," H'aanit nods, "How weren the church here?"

"It was very nice. Me and Alfyn spoke with some sisters and broke bread!"

"Did you find what you were lookin' for, Therion?" Alfyn looks to the thief.

"... I found something," The thief answers curtly.

"And what about you, Olberic?" Primrose looks to the warrior, "What of your mysterious target?"

"I had asked around the marketplace while following along... But the merchants certainly were not knowledgeable on warriors," Olberic sighs, "Perhaps I will need to look elsewhere. Though, from what I heard, this city does not seem to have such information in general..."

"Well, you may as well ask along the same area as H'aanit, then!" Ophilia points out.

"There's researchers here in this place, so try them," Therion offers, much to the surprise of everyone else.

"Ah, that sounds promising!" Cyrus smacks a fist into his palm.

"What about your search?" Olberic looks back to Primrose, "Did you find what you sought here?"

"Yes, I did," Primrose says simply, "I'm expecting to be finished with everything in this city... by the end of tomorrow."

"Oh, nice!" Tressa says obliviously, "I'll help if it'll move things along!"

"No," Primrose says bluntly now.

"Eh?" The merchant blinks at the stiff rejection.

"... This is something for me to do," Primrose smiles softly, "Alone."

Therion bats an eye lightly at that, but he says nothing. Olberic also seems to take note of that, but he doesn't stay silent.

"What are you planning to do?" He asks directly. The dancer doesn't answer.

"It seems we all have quite the full schedules," Simeon chuckles, "We should eat quickly and get some rest for tomorrow, then, hm?"

"Agreed!" Cyrus finishes his third stick and gives a slight burp, "Oh, excuse me!"

Linde happily gnaws one some food tossed her way by H'aanit's feet. The huntress keeps a vigilant eye about them all. Her senses are telling her there are eyes on all of them after today. Something... feels like it will happen.

...

That night, at the inn, there are some sleepless suspects about in the single large room that Tressa bought. The merchant herself is quietly cuddled in her usual sleeping bag. She looks a bit troubled before falling asleep. Alfyn is tiredly and sloppily asleep on the bed. Cyrus is a neater sleeper and lies beside the large frame of Olberic. The large warrior dozes with surprisingly light snores. Ophilia shares a bed with H'aanit and Linde, snuggled under the covers.

Therion sits by the windowsill outside their room, in the hallway. Their room is on the second floor, not being policed by the front desk like the ground floor. He seems contemplative of something.

From the darkness, the dancer approaches silently. The thief silently notes her presence.

"Room for one more?" Primrose asks quietly with a somewhat apologetic smile.

Therion just grunts as if to say "help yourself."

Primrose sits on the opposite corner of the sill, looking out at the dark night. A moment of silence passes between them.

"... Where's your little boyfriend?" Therion asks off the side.

"Simeon went out for some fresh air," Primrose replies.

"Huh. Isn't this place dangerous?"

The dancer points down at the space right before the inn. They can see the silvery-haired playwright just loitering there. His head is quite visible in the dim moonlight.

"He's right there. It's fine."

"Hm..." The thief's eyes flicker at the dancer briefly, "So … you're planning on running off and fighting again."

"... That's a given," Primrose gives an amused scoff, "You surely have noticed where my goals lie at this point, dear thief."

"At least this time, you're not taking the pipsqueak with you."

"Oh? Are you so worried for her now?" Primrose asks mischievously.

"I didn't say that," Therion snaps.

"Fufu... I'm sure she's not very happy about it... but it's better this way," Primrose lightly fingers one of the many glittering sequins on her necklace.

Therion sighs briefly and changes the subject, "So where's your target this time? It's an all-around rotten town."

"It's that obvious, hm… Well, where else shall I go but the very heart of the matter? Same as with Stillsnow…" Primrose's features show an odd amusement in the moonlight.

"Right to the top? You're killing some nobles straight out?"

"The ones who now call themselves nobles… and the current lord," The dancer's smile is knife-like, "It has been a while, and much has changed… but I found out where they hide. The Obsidians have claimed this city as their nest… and I'll kill them whilst they roost."

"And then what? Are you seriously going to murder all the nobles?" The thief asks skeptically.

"… It doesn't sound so bad. Think of it like a purge."

"You're nuts."

"What about you? Finally found what you seek, here of all places?"

"Something like that," Therion lowers his gaze slightly, fingering the bangle under his poncho, "If you're all done after this, you just gonna stay here and cause more trouble?"

"If I find the ones I seek, there will be no hesitation. And, for whatever comes after... I don't have any plans."

Something about the way she said that seemed a bit strange to Therion. It was an ending in totality, or so it sounded. The thief never thought of such a thing. A thief's diet is voracious. You can steal enough to make a bit of ends meet, but you will eventually go back to old habits once money runs dry. There is no end to that kind of profession. And, for himself, once this whole dragonstone nonsense is over with, he'll be back to his old habits.

But the dancer and her driven nature were given a single goal. After that, she has nothing else planned? Well, that might make sense. It's not like she can just go back to dancing in Sunshade. It was just... odd to hear this kind of thing from her own lips. It was almost like an ultimatum.

"You'll be finished tomorrow as well, then?" The dancer turns on her foot and faces the innards of the inn.

"Hope to be," He answers.

"I wish you the best of luck, then," Primrose smiles quietly and walks back to their room, "Good night, dear thief."

Therion is left to look at the night alone. He frowns to himself quietly.

Down below, his gaze looks back at that head of hair that should be Simeon. For a second, he thought he was looking at nothing. It was like the moonlight was playing a trick on his eye. With a frustrated scoff, he rubs his eye and also turns in for the night before his eye plays any more pranks of exhaustion on his brain.

Perched above the inn roof is a single crow.

...

Simeon strolls idly through the night along the southernmost edge of the West Noblecourt plazas, near where the trees are. Their foliated shadows rustle softly in the night. There seems to be nary a soul wandering this late, save for him. Some drunk vagrants seem to have passed out along some fence posts, while a few homeless sit along the stone walls. They cannot be seen in the day, lest they be targeted by the guard for obstruction of city passage.

"Hmm..." The playwright briefly checks on the illusion he'd installed at the front of the inn with a remote scry. It's still holding... and it looks like everyone has gone to sleep. Good.

"Hey, hey, hey. Lookie here!"

Simeon pauses as two figures stand before him, having slunk their way around him by the sides of the path. They appear dressed like some typical ne'er-do-wells, in dark clothes and with cloths covering their faces.

"This one's dressed real pretty on such a dark night, ain't he?" One of the hooligans leers, "Where' you going, chap? Off to see a woman, maybe?"

"We'll walk you there, why not? We're gentlemen," The other says mockingly.

"... You both are Obsidians, right?" Simeon smiles at them.

"You got that right. So, if you know what's good for yourself, hand over all your money and clothes," The bandits draw knives just out of sight, "And you can run along to whatever whore you got waiting."

"This certainly explains why no one would walk around anymore... Heh, I knew things were this bad... but seeing them somehow just... it's refreshing," Simeon rubs his chin with a small smile as he seems to ignore the threats. Any vagrants nearby either scramble away or are passed out.

"Oi, we aren't playing. You heard us. We're the Obsidians! We run this city!" One of the Obsidians growls, "Stop talking nonsense and do as we say!"

"Humans are truly irredeemable... This is all just a funny comedy... or a tragedy... I still haven't decided yet. And yet, the end is so close... and I'm improvising, haha," Simeon talks to himself, it seems.

"Think you're funny, huh? We'll just take our time and pick through your corpse!"

One of the Obsidians makes a lunge at Simeon to drive his knife into the playwright's abdomen. His knife stops mere millimeters from touching Simeon. The Obsidian and his partner seem confused, and rightfully so.

"H-huh? Urgh... What the-?! I can't... move...!" The attempted stabber can't seem to move an inch from where he's currently positioned.

"What did you do?!" The other Obsidian glowers at Simeon, knife out on the defensive.

"When a character rebels against their writer... it is forbidden," Simeon merely smiles and raises a hand. Dark strings seem to manifest at his fingertips, lacing the air. Some of them have intertwined with the paralyzed Obsidian's body.

"T-This guy's a Gate?" The Obsidian's partner pales and looks ready to run, "I-I'm not messing with that!"

"H-hey! Don't wuss out on me! You hear me?! Hey!" The Obsidian in the tangle of strings says with desperation and fear growing in his eyes.

"Once they realize their fates are doomed, they become pitiful beggars before their new master... their new god," Simeon looks at his captive and the other one.

The other Obsidian immediately turns to run. However, he realizes that he also cannot move. The dark strings have got him as well.

"Urk...!"

"Now then, which one of you wants to live? And which one will die?" Simeon asks.

"Uh... Ugh, spare me, please!"

"Yeah, we had no idea what we were doing! Honest!"

"I have an ailing sister at home! This is all that keeps her medicine paid!"

"M-my old father would die without me!"

The two bandits, so full of bluster mere moments ago, now are no better than blubbering prisoners about to be hung at the gallows. Their cases do not seem to move their judge.

"Let us see, maybe... who is more desperate? Your sister or your father?"

With a flick of his wrist, the two Obsidians begin to move. However, it is not of their own volition. Wielding their knives, they now attempt to stab and slice each other to ribbons.

"Agh- AAgh! What sorcery is this?!"

"S-stop, OW! Please, no, no!"

"No worries. We are in a private area. No one will hear you," Simeon moves his fingers about, "Now, a climax to the conflict!"

He draws them crashing together and blood flecks the floor. One stabbed his blade into the other's gut. The other got the throat. Red pools as the two drop to the floor like stones.

"It seems... the father's son won by the hair of his ass," Simeon chuckles as his dark strings slowly fade, "Oh, but alas... Death is not so merciful. The audience is absolutely weeping. Two friends, thick as thieves, turning on each other to save their own skins! And all that comes of it are two bodies growing cold on the cobblestone."

"Ugh..." The one that did not get his throat slashed weakly pulls at the hem of Simeon's pants, "P-please don't... don't leave ... me here..."

"... You were victorious, son of the father. So, I will give you the privilege of being my messenger," Simeon bends down with a somewhat sympathetic smile, "It is a very ... not very important message."

Before the Obsidian can blubber any more pleas, Simeon's hands touch his head. Dark lines seem to spiderweb out from his fingertips throughout the Obsidian's skin. When Simeon takes his hand off, the body before him is still for a few moments. Then, it suddenly stands with a jerky motion, as if it were a mannequin pulled by strings.

"Now, go back to Albus and let him know that I will be coming soon for a reunion," Simeon waves the Obsidian off, "And have someone come clean this up."

The Obsidian blankly nods. Slowly, he walks away with that jerky gait. Blood is still spilling from his grievous wound, but he no longer seems to notice it nor any pain. The playwright is left alone before the corpse on the ground.

Simeon checks his shoes for any blood before walking back towards the inn, "Ah, I dallied a bit, didn't I..."

He looks up to the dim moon, largely obscured by passing dark clouds.

"... Primrose, my Prim, my flower... If you won't ignore the path of tragedy... I don't think there is any other way for you to realize..." Simeon sighs. It is unclear what expression he is making.

Humans are such ugly things. We are such depraved creatures... and it's fun to watch.

I want to see you, Primrose...

How will you... bloom? Will you wither? Or, maybe you truly are a dark flower...

For a moment, his expression turns into a frown as he remembers something unpleasant. Something hidden in the house of Azelhart... Something that needed to be revealed.

When he returns to the inn and enters the front door, the crow atop the roof has vanished.

...

Within the Obsidian Manse, the one-eyed right wing of the crow gloomily looks at the fireplace in the master living room. It is a spacious place, though showing plenty of wear and tear on its edges from the years past. But that means little to him.

"... What is it?" He says without turning around. He is able to perceive the movements of his subordinate entering the room easily even without looking.

"A corpse came walking back into the yard," The underling reports, "It has been dealt with."

"A walking corpse, hm... The head always did have a thing for dramatic theatrics," The right wing scoffs, "So, he's coming, hm? And just in time as the little Azelhart princess is in town to deliver herself to death."

"What are your orders?"

"... Let her come. She can't take us down. I will simply finish what I failed to do that night... She is the foolish one for returning here," The right wing smirks and turns around, "Make sure everyone knows to give her a proper greeting."

As his underling hurries off to carry out his order, he glances out the nearby window. Perched on the branches of a nearby dead tree is a crow.

"It took me too long to finally have this... all this that I rightfully deserve! I'm not going to let some stupid daughter of Geoffrey's take this away from me. Well, no matter… She can join her beloved father soon enough."

...

Morning comes without much fanfare. It's actually quite somber. The town has its usual humdrum of activity revving to life as the sun rises in the sky.

Tressa stretches and goes to groggily wash her face. Alfyn yawns and glances to see Primrose already up and about, ready to leave.

"Wait, Prim! How's your arm?" The apothecary stops her, "It can't be all healed already, right?"

The dancer glances down at her wrapped arm. Alfyn gestures for her to get over to him. She acquiesces and allows him to examine her.

"In a hurry?" He asks good-naturedly as he gently unwraps the arm and presses along the still-bruised skin, "Yeow, it's still really tender…"

"… It's fine," Prim sighs, "You are right. I'm in a hurry."

"But that ain't no way to get better!" Alfyn frowns, "Does it still hurt?"

Primrose suppresses any grimace of pain and merely smiles as she wiggles her fingers, "It's fine. See?"

"…" Alfyn looks seriously and holds her hand in his own, "Squeeze."

"…" Primrose does so.

"Naw… can you even hold your knife like this? The muscles're still recovering from the bone detachment…" The apothecary sighs, "Prim, y' really oughta rest."

"I don't think it will be necessary," Primrose smiles, "Your concern is appreciated but… I can't dally any further."

"Perhaps you shouldn't go alone," Olberic looks to the dancer while standing by the door like a guard.

"… Are you offering? I'm flattered," Primrose chuckles airily, "But it's fine. It's something that I must do. You understand, don't you?"

"Aye. I do only too well. That is why I am saying you should reconsider," Olberic sighs, "You are driven, but that will only make you reckless. Even if it is a task you must do yourself, you should keep an open mind of the extent of your abilities and their limits."

"Olberic hath right," H'aanit glances over as well, "Thou hath only one arm or so, no?"

Primrose raises an eyebrow at the huntress, "… Here I thought you wouldn't mind."

"We aren allies," H'aanit answers bluntly.

"H'aanit's right!" Ophilia speaks up from bed, one of the last to wake up, "We worry about you, Primrose!"

"… It's not any of your business to go sticking your necks out like this," The dancer sighs, "If anyone is to bear my burden… I wouldn't want it."

"…" Therion glances to the huntress, one foot already out the door.

"I will go with you," Olberic says firmly, looking Primrose in the eye, "I may have come to this city for other purposes… but I think it more important at this rate to make sure you are not overexerting yourself."

The dancer sighs under her breath, "…suit yourself."

"… I willen comen, too, then," H'aanit looks to Alfyn, "Mayhap today thou can watchen Therion."

"I'm not some kid that needs babysitting," Therion scowls.

"Heh, if Ol'Berg an' H'aanit go with Prim, that's a load off my mind!" Alfyn heartily wrangles Therion in a one-armed hug.

"Wheren will thou go, Ophilia?" H'aanit glances to the cleric.

"Uh, I was thinking of just helping out however I can since I don't have any destination here and I've been to the church and paid my respects..." Ophilia scratches her cheek, "Maybe... I can come with you?"

Primrose looks ready to object at that, "More of you coming with me? I think not."

"Aw, c'mon Prim, Lia could help a l-"

"I'm sorry, Alfyn, but even two people is stretching it as it. I want to do this alone," Primrose says stiffly.

"Oh, I see..." Ophilia dampens but smiles, "If it's something important, I don't want to get in the way..."

"..." H'aanit frowns slightly, but she doesn't say anything.

"Ahem... well, I suppose I will go see to the researcher circles that Therion suggested," Cyrus clasps his caplet and cape about his shoulders, "Tressa ought to come along! Perhaps there was something left to be discovered in the more academic side of things!"

"... Why not go with them, Ophilia?" Olberic offers, "It might be interesting, if nothing else."

"Ah, yes! Even if you have no errand to run, it is never a bad idea to learn a bit on the side!" Cyrus chuckles obliviously.

"M-mm, okay..."

"So that makes... me and Therion one pair. Lia's going with Cy and Tress... and Prim's got Ol'Berg and H'aanit with her! Great!" Alfyn grins in contentment.

"... Where's the playwright?" Therion's eye shifts about the room.

"Ah, he's waiting outside, actually," Primrose waves a little and goes to exit, "I must be going."

Olberic and H'aanit hasten to don their gear and follow after the dancer. No doubt she would leave them behind if they didn't keep up. There is such a different urgency in her step since they'd entered the city!

"So!" Alfyn looks to Therion, "What're we doin' today?"

"Looking for wyvern scales," Therion says as he walks out.

"Wy... vern...? Oh, those worm dragons? Cool!" Alfyn follows enthusiastically.

"... everyone's already left?" Tressa is surprised when she comes back from washing her face and sees only Ophilia and Cyrus left in the room.

"Ah, yes. But no worries! We are not in a hurry," Cyrus puts his hands on his hips, "The steps to knowledge are not fast nor should they be hasty."

"... So, Prim went off on her own?" Tressa can't help but sound a bit glum as she pulls on her rucksack.

"Well, Sir Olberic and Lady H'aanit went with her," Cyrus shrugs, "So I think she has some good power on her side."

At his words, Ophilia sees Tressa's shoulders seem to slump a bit. The cleric draws her cape about herself and picks up her staff, making sure the lanthorn is safely secured on her person, before standing and going to pat Tressa on the back.

"Cyrus had the wonderful idea of looking at what researchers in the city are learning about. We were hoping you would join us," Ophilia smiles.

"... Yeah, sure," Tressa sighs. The merchant lightly tips the rim of her hat a little closer to her nose.

...

After having left the Forsythe house as she did yesterday, Primrose had not been idle with Simeon. The two of them conducted extensive footwork throughout the city, seeking more bits of information concerning the Obsidians and their center of operations in the old headman house. As expected, they are greeted by mixed expressions of fear and many with tight lips.

The old headman's manor has indeed become simply known as the Obsidian Manse. From the front door, there are various people in dark clothes that hang around like guards. This is around the clock security, and the yard within the gates is also populated with similar eyes. Trees in the vicinity seem largely bereft of leaves, instead being covered in dark flocks of crows around twilight.

Rumors about the place are repetitive, speaking to its reputation. People murmur about the city lord using the darkly dressed figures as assassins and other shady actors. There are likely other methods of ingress into the building, but they are known only by the less-than-savory members of the lord's hit squad and other lackeys, probably. City folk learn to avoid the place altogether. Woe be it to the poor soul that must enter the manse to pay dues or such. Worse also is when the lord dispatches goons straight to your house and interrupts your family meal over extortion fees...

"... So, thou looketh for one such member of the Obsidians, to capture and finden another way into the manse," H'aanit looks to Primrose after the dancer explains her plan in a low voice. She, Olberic, Linde, Primrose, and Simeon are currently gathered tightly around a little table in an outdoor cafe by one of the plazas. They all speak in low, hushed voices.

"In short, yes."

"... They are likely present, just difficult to find," Olberic sighs, "I must admit that this sounds... a bit ill-planned. Running into a nest of vipers like that... It begs a possible repeat of what happened in Stillsnow..."

"That went well enough, did it not?" Primrose smiles wryly, "I don't have an army with me. And the law is, well, absent in this city now... so this is all we can do."

Olberic wished to dissuade her. However, he cannot come up with a better argument. The law in this town would likely be a dead end. If anything, they would be the ones in danger of being thrown in the gallows for conspiracy.

"Doen thou truly wisheth to come?" H'aanit now looks to Simeon, "Thou aren... not a fighter. T'would be dangerous."

"Oh, no. Prim already tried this, believe me," Simeon chuckles weakly, "I want to stand by her side through this. I won't run this time."

Linde rolls her eyes.

"... Excuse me."

All heads turn to look up at the weathered face of Lord Forsythe. The man looks like he'd had yet another bad night of sleep among others.

"Ah... Lord Forsythe," Primrose quickly stands, "What are you..."

"I... I wanted to speak with you... I couldn't leave things as they were after yesterday..." Lord Forsythe sighs heavily, "I couldn't... stop thinking about what you said."

"... Perhaps we should speak somewhere more private then," Primrose glances to her companions, "Ah. These are my companions, Lord Forsythe."

"Hail, good sir," Olberic stands, taller than Lord Forsythe.

"Oh... yes, any friend of Primrose is a friend of mine," Forsythe gives a small smile, crinkling the skin around his eyes, "My manor is not too far off. We may speak more freely there. Anna and Jan are out of the house today."

They take Forsythe up on his invitation and head over to the Forsythe manor. This time, they sit at the yard within the property gates, not needing to go inside.

"I don't wish to take up any extra time with formalities," Lord Forsythe says solemnly, "Lady Primrose... after our conversation, it felt like I was being chastised for my cowardice all these years... and I could not stomach yet another day of it whilst you are running into danger."

Primrose lowers her gaze, "... Lord Forsythe, please do not trouble yourself over such matters. I understand. You are married, have a family to take care of, and-"

"And I should be a better lord. A better friend to your father...!" Forsythe says with some force that was lacking in his fatigued state yesterday, "So, I would like to accompany you to the Obsidian Manse."

Olberic observes the slight surprise on the dancer's face that shows. She tries to mask it almost immediately with disappointment.

"Lord Forsythe, you..."

"Through the years, I have gathered some useful information. One of them is a secret passageway into the old headman's manse. We can use that to our advantage," Forsythe says in a low voice, "I had fancied many a time of using it... but I lacked the courage to do anything... until now."

He looks to Primrose with something glistening in his eyes a bit. It made him look younger.

"You reminded me of what Geoffrey would say in such times. I had forgotten the pride of the City Watch and our modus operandi to protect the city," Lord Forsythe says solemnly, "So, I cannot let you go without my coming as well."

"... What about Anna? And Jan?" Primrose asks with a slight sigh, "What about your house if anything happens to you?"

"... I'd like to think Anna and Jan would understand," Lord Forsythe gives a wry smile, "Jan is a man now."

Olberic and H'aanit say nothing, perhaps not wanting to interrupt. Linde glances on the side at Simeon, whose face has turned inscrutable.

"... I wanted to do this alone, Lord Forsythe. Like you... I know people have gotten hurt by these men. I intended for no others to be harmed," Primrose says softly, "...If I cannot stop you from coming... then all I can do is thank you."

"Please do not. I am not deserving of your thanks... and please, Lady Primrose... call me Revello."