Nick pushed open the door to the Adventurer’s Guild and paused just inside the threshold.
The noise hadn’t improved.
Someone was now arguing loud enough to be heard over everyone else.
And, of course, everyone was doing that.
Voices overlapped across the hall in a way that made it difficult to tell where one argument ended and another began. Someone was loudly insisting they’d been cheated. Someone else was trying to sell a half-empty potion like it was a miracle cure. The quest board had attracted a crowd, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as hands reached in and out to tear down anything that looked remotely worthwhile.
Ray leaned slightly closer to him, peering past the chaos.
“It really is always like this.”
Nick watched a man elbow his way through the crowd.
“…”
They stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind them as they moved toward the board.
Most of the better-looking postings that had gone up since this morning had already been taken, leaving behind a patchwork of curling parchment and torn corners. A few scraps hung loosely where something had been ripped free in a hurry, the edges uneven.
Ray scanned what remained.
Her eyes drifted upward first, lingering on another section of the board that had more requests posted.
“Why are those separated?” she asked.
Nick followed her line of sight.
The lettering was cleaner and the rewards were… noticeably better.
The F-rank quests.
They looked more typical of a fantasy adventure. He saw requests for medicinal herbs, rat extermination around the warehouses in the docks, a request to investigate a vampire sighting…
Further down, there were E-rank and D-rank quests as well.
There was even a lone S-rank quest:
—Discover the Whereabouts of Missing Expedition to the Voskeg Mountains.
“Those look way more interesting,” Ray observed.
“They are.”
She looked back down at the section they were allowed to take from.
“…So why are we stuck taking quests from here?”
“I thought you liked shoveling.”
“I did for like, two hours. Then it got boring.”
A man beside them tore a sheet off the board with enough force to rip part of the backing with it. He didn’t seem to notice or care.
Ray watched him go, then returned to the remaining options.
Her finger traced down the list slowly this time.
Guard Duty – Lower Market
Assist with Unloading Goods
Stable Cleaning – East District
Waste Removal – Lower Quarter
She stopped.
“…We are not doing that one,” she said, tapping the last option.
Nick glanced at it, then nodded once.
“No arguments from me.”
She moved her finger back up the list.
“This one,” she said, tapping the guard duty request. “It’s close to the inn.”
Nick leaned in to read the details.
He considered it for a moment, then nodded.
“Sure. Guard duty is pretty boring, but sometimes you get lucky and something interesting happens.”
She nodded, satisfied.
“I hope someone tries to steal his stuff.”
Nick folded the parchment once as they turned away from the board.
Behind them, someone shouted about a ‘stolen job’, followed immediately by the sound of something hitting the floor.
***
When they arrived at the lower market, the bustling energy of the area immediately hit them. Stalls lined the streets, each one filled with a different type of good—everything from hand-forged tools to spices that filled the air with exotic aromas. Nick’s gaze swept over the crowd until it settled on a wiry man with a scruffy beard and keen eyes overseeing a spice stall. He carried himself with the air of someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense, his expression set in a permanent scowl as he watched his customers and passersby alike.
“Garin?” Nick called as they approached, double-checking the name and description on their quest sheet.
The man turned, sizing them up with a critical eye before giving a gruff nod. “Yeah, that’s me. You here for the guard shift?” His voice was low and a bit rough around the edges, matching his demeanor.
“That’s right,” Nick replied. “Name’s Nick and this is Ray. Anything in particular we should keep an eye on?”
Garin’s gaze flickered toward a nearby stall, a faint scowl deepening on his face. “Lately? We’ve had more… incidents,” he muttered. “Between pickpockets and troublemakers, things get rowdy. Not to mention the thieves who think they can wander through and swipe whatever they like.” He crossed his arms, shooting a glare at a couple of loitering youths.
“The usual, then,” Nick observed.
“Something like that,” the merchant muttered.
As Nick and Ray settled into their positions around Garin’s spice stall, the flow of the lower market continued in a busy, rhythmic pulse. The wiry merchant greeted customers with a clipped efficiency, his glare settling on any stranger who lingered too close to his stock.
“Watch for any pickpockets,” he repeated, squinting in the sunlight. “And don’t expect any thanks if you catch one. You’re here to make sure I’m not robbed blind. That’s it.”
As Nick scanned the crowd, his attention snagged on something further down the row. A slave stall. Chained beastkin stood on display, their eyes downcast, shoulders slumped in defeat. People moved past with a mixture of discomfort and indifference, sparing only the briefest glances. But one figure lingered longer than the others—a tall, distressingly overweight man in elaborate priestly robes emblazoned with symbols of strength.
The man inspected the slaves with a calculating eye, like he was examining livestock.
Ray’s gaze followed Nick’s. “Is he… buying them?”
“Seems like it,” he replied, his voice low. “Doesn’t look like he’s browsing.”
They watched as the priest moved from one slave to another, finally pausing before a young catgirl. Her wrists were bound, and her ears were flattened against her head as she stared defiantly under the priest’s scrutiny. He spoke a few words to the merchant, who gave a curt nod and moved to release her from the display. The priest tossed a small coin pouch to the merchant, who pocketed it without a second glance.
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like him.”
Nick nodded. “Can’t say I’m a fan.”
At that moment, movement at the edge of the crowd caught his eye. A hooded figure slipped between the stalls, her motions smooth and fluid, quick fingers brushing against the hem of the priest’s robes before darting away.
Nobody except Nick and Ray seemed to notice her.
She was young, perhaps in her late teens, with an air of confidence and agility that made her almost invisible among the throngs of people. In the brief moment she turned, Nick saw her face—a flash of green eyes and a knowing smirk.
“And there’s our pickpocket,” he murmured to Ray. “Quick, quiet, and not exactly subtle…”
“You think we should stop her?”
He shook his head. “Only if she makes a move on Garin. Our job is to watch his stall. Besides, I’m not in a hurry to help him.”
The hooded girl, as if aware of their attention, cast a glance their way. Her smirk grew into a grin, and in a deliberate motion, she lifted her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Then, just as quickly, she slipped back into the crowd, disappearing with practiced ease.
Ray giggled. “I like her. Think we’ll see her again?”
“Maybe,” Nick replied. “Something tells me she has more than a few tricks up her sleeve.”
Their attention was pulled back to Garin as he huffed under his breath, watching the priest lead his new slave—still visibly trembling—through the crowd.
“Lord Jantzen Rovar,” he muttered. “The duke’s son is a nasty piece of work. Dunno what ol’ Strength sees in him to make him a priest.” He cast a wary glance toward them. “You didn’t hear that from me.”
Nick’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening.
“A priest, you say? I’m used to the faithful being opposed to slavery. Do they openly support it here?”
Garin raised an eyebrow. “Is that some kind of trick question? Were you sent by the inquisitors to make me confess my sins?”
“…What?”
“I won’t be tricked!”
The spice merchant’s expression was resolute, signaling that he had said enough.
Nick blinked, holding back a wry smile. Garin had keen eyes.
‘Of all the possible roles, he imagined me as an ‘inquisitor’?’
Recalling those sun-crazed lunatics who followed Aurelia, he shuddered.
Somehow, the merchant recognized the type of person he was.
Yet, it was insulting all the same.
Minutes passed as they continued their vigil, Nick keeping an eye on Garin’s goods, Ray scanning the crowd with quiet alertness. From time to time, he thought he glimpsed the hooded thief—though each time he looked again, she was gone, leaving him wondering if she was deliberately toying with them.
After what felt like hours, the sun began to sink low, casting a warm, golden light over the market. Garin signaled to them with a brusque nod. “Shift’s over. No trouble on my end. I left the payment with the guild, and I’ll see to it you get credit for the job.”
“Much appreciated,” Nick replied.
But as they turned to leave, Ray nudged him, her gaze locked on a figure at the far end of the square. There, the hooded girl stood, watching them with a smirk before ducking into an alley. A silent invitation hung in the air, daring them to follow.
“Should we go?” Ray asked, her tone laced with curiosity.
Nick considered it, weighing their options. They had completed their quest without issue, and now, with the mystery of the girl—and the unsettling sight of the duke’s son—lingering in his mind, he found himself itching to understand more about the darker side of Cairel.
“She seems to be interested in us,” he said quietly. “Let’s see why.”
With a final glance around the marketplace, they made their way toward the alleyway where the hooded girl disappeared. Nick’s mind ran through the possibilities. She could be an informant, a nuisance, or something else entirely.
Meanwhile, Ray’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, her attention drawn in by the hooded girl’s audacity alone.
As they stepped into the dim alley, they were immediately greeted by a shifting shadow at the far end, flitting between beams of fading sunlight. The figure, agile and poised, moved with the precision of someone completely at home in dark pathways. When she emerged fully into view, the hooded girl leaned casually against a stone wall, her emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“You followed me,” she said.
Nick gave a half-smile. “You stood out.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s usually a bad thing in my line of work.”
“It’s kind of inevitable in mine,” he replied. “Causes all sorts of problems.”
“You looking for solutions?”
“I just might be.”
Her gaze flicked between them.
“The two of you have good senses. You seem like the kind to jump on opportunities… so why are a couple of newcomers like you guarding a nobody like Garin?”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
“Everything is an experience, or something like that.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I can tell from the way you move that you’re wasted on bullshit like that. You should be doing things that actually matter.”
“You’re giving an awful lot of advice for someone we just met,” Ray pointed out.
“She’s probably an activist,” Nick commented. “One of those social media warriors, or whatever the equivalent is here.”
She pushed off the wall, stepping a little closer.
“Funny.”
“I try.”
“I can tell.”
She studied him for a moment longer, then shifted her attention to Ray.
“You’re too quiet.”
Ray blinked. “That’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me.”
The thief’s lips curved faintly. “You don’t like what you saw back there.”
“…”
“Most people don’t,” she continued. “They just decide it’s not their problem.”
Nick let out a quiet breath through his nose. “And you?”
She tilted her head. “Well, I wonder?”
“You’re infuriatingly vague.”
“It’s like talking to a mirror, right?”
“I hate it.”
“Beautiful.”
Nick sighed, then gestured vaguely back toward the market.
“You picked a strange target.”
“The priest?” she asked.
“The duke’s son,” he added. “You’re either very bold or very stupid.”
Her smile widened noticeably. “Which do you think it is?”
“Stupid,” Nick concluded.
“You seem very pleasant to work with.”
“My wife said the same thing.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
“Well, I died, so that threw a wrench into things.”
“Is your temple far away or something?”
“Well, I guess you could say that.”
“That sucks.”
Nick studied her for a moment.
“You always this helpful?”
She shrugged. “Only when it’s entertaining.”
“Does that include telling us your name?”
She hesitated for a fraction of a second.
“…Lila.”
“That your real name?”
“That’s all you get for now.”
Nick nodded once, filing it away.
A quiet moment settled between them.
Lila’s gaze flicked past them toward the mouth of the alley. The noise of the market drifted in faintly.
“You should be careful,” she said.
Ray frowned. “Of what?”
Lila looked at Nick.
“The two of you are standing out a lot more than you probably realize. This city belongs to the Bishop of Tyranny.”
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “I figured we were on a watchlist.”
“You’re a little higher profile than that.”
She paused.
Then, with a hint of hesitation, she continued. “That girl that he bought. You looked like you wanted to do something about it.”
Ray stiffened.
“…I did,” she admitted.
Lila nodded.
“Then you should decide early,” she said. “Whether that’s the kind of person you want to be here.”
Ray’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Lila said, “that people like him don’t stop existing just because you don’t like them.”
Her gaze shifted briefly back toward the market.
“And people like her don’t stop needing help.”
The alley fell quiet again.
Nick’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture stilled.
Ray looked down, her hands tightening at her sides.
“…We had a job,” she said quietly.
Lila glanced back at her.
“There’s always something.”
Then she stepped back, the shadows beginning to swallow her outline.
“For what it’s worth,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “you made the safer choice.”
Ray looked up.
“That doesn’t make it the right one.”
Lila gave her a faint smile.
“Now you’re getting it.”
She turned, already disappearing into the deeper darkness of the alley.
“If you’re still around in a few days,” she said over her shoulder, “try not to waste your time guarding spice stalls.”
Nick watched her go.
“Any suggestions?”
There was a brief pause.
Then, from somewhere deeper in the alley:
“…Depends on how comfortable you are with making enemies.”
Her comment was met with silence.
Then she was gone.
The noise of the market filtered in, distant but persistent.
Ray bit her lip.
“I don’t like this city.”
“Because of her?”
She shook her head. Her gaze drifted back toward the market, toward where the slave stall had been.
“…Do you think she’s okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes followed hers, but whatever he saw wasn’t the market.
“…No,” he said.
Ray swallowed.
“…We should have done something.”
His grip tightened at his side.
For a moment, it looked like he might say something to contradict her.
He didn’t.
Instead—
“Maybe,” he said.
She nodded like she understood that answer even though it didn’t resolve anything.
They stepped out of the alley and back into the fading light of the market.
The world hadn’t changed.
The stalls were still open.
The crowds still moved.
Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed.
Nick walked a few steps before slowing.
“…We’ll see her again,” he said.
“Lila?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
His gaze lingered briefly on the space where the alley disappeared behind them.
“People like her don’t make introductions without a reason.”
Ray considered that.
“Do you think she’s dangerous?”
He smiled.
“Definitely.”
As they walked back toward the inn, the noise of the city swallowed them again.
Project Knightfall 