Stolen clothes and sewer chic

As the group walks through the forest, returning toward the city, a quiet tension hangs in the air. Wolfgang breaks the silence first. “Given our current vibe and demeanor, I assume we have no chance of a surprise entry into the sewers,” he says dryly. “We might as well announce ourselves with drums and demand an audience with the brother. Maybe later we show the Sloth’s claws. But let’s not kill him — he’s the only one who knows where the Queen is.”

Daiki considers this. “Do we have to go up into the city and then down into the sewers? Or is there another way in, like from the outskirts?”

Amber nods, thoughtful. “We can’t go through the small pipes. But maybe there’s an old inlet somewhere—something that goes into the earth. Possibly outside the city. That way, we don’t need to go up and then back down.”

“Didn’t you say the sewers go into rivers?” Daiki asks.

Amber replies, “Oui, oui. If we follow this little creek, it might lead us to the river — where the sewer comes out.”

Wolfgang raises a brow. “I thought we were following Miss Ashira to that tavern — the one right above the sewage entrance where the goblin infestation is.”

“Yes, I would,” Ash says, then pauses.

Amber frowns. “Oui, but did it actually say entrance? Or just that it was above the sewer? Because, technically, everything is above the sewer.”

Ash waves off the doubt. “No, no, no. I’m a hundred percent sure. The tavern is above the entrance.” She hesitates. “There’s just one small problem… I sort of misremembered. I don’t know where it is. I remember the tavern, just not where it is. Never been there.”

A quiet beat passes.

“I’m sure we can find that out,” Masaki offers calmly.

Amber raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me, did you say the tavern is in the—?”

“Yes,” Ash confirms, with a crooked grin. “That’s the perfect place to hide, isn’t it?”

Amber groans. “Ah, merde. Literally merde.”

“Exactly,” Ash says, laughing.

Amber shrugs. “Bon.”

“We can probably enter from the side,” Ash adds. “I just don’t know where.”

Masaki adds, “Before we enter, we should investigate. Maybe get a map of the sewers.”

“They have maps?” Daiki asks, incredulous.

“Undoubtedly,” Masaki replies. “We can start with the Mage Guard Keep.”

“I have no intention of going to the Mage Guard,” Amber says immediately.

“Then maybe Major Clovis?” Masaki suggests, teasing.

Amber glares. “No. No. Ah, bien sûr. Ah, funny.”

“I’m joking,” Masaki chuckles.

“Masaki — always funny,” Amber replies, dry.

“I can inquire. That’s no problem.”

Wolfgang, ever the pragmatist, turns to Ash. “You seem familiar with this… sewer tavern. What’s your usual dress code? And how do you stay clean?”

Ash shrugs. “It’s easy. Just wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. Take it off later and wash it. Or yourself. Whatever works.”

Wolfgang arches an eyebrow. “Do any of us have magical abilities to clean fabrics? Bodies?”

Ash glances at him knowingly. “Right, your feathers. They will get dirty.”

“We can clean you afterwards,” Masaki assures him.

“In our family, we call it Peck and Feathers,” Wolfgang says with pride.

Amber smirks. “Oui. All the shit will definitely cling to your feathers.”

“Splendid,” Wolfgang replies.

“It’s going to be disgusting,” Amber adds, wrinkling her nose.

Ash just smiles. “Yeah, but it’ll be clean after. That’s fine, right?”

---

A teenage boy, around seventeen or eighteen, approaches the group nervously. His face flushes with embarrassment. “Could you please help us? Um, we kind of… lost our clothes.”

Amber narrows her eyes. “What is going on? Were you having sex in the bushes or what?”

“No! No, we were just swimming in a pond nearby. We left our clothes on the bushes… something small took them and ran off.”

Masaki pulls out some spare common clothes. “Here,” he says, handing them over. “It’s missing a sleeve, used it on Ash, but it’ll do.”

The boy quickly gives the shirt to the girl. “Adia, you take these first,” he says. 

He gestures to the others. “Could you check around? Maybe our clothes are still nearby.”

Ash points up. “There they are. In that tree.”

Amber wastes no time. “I’ll climb it.”

The girl sighs in relief. “Oh, thank you. Can you collect them for us? These borrowed clothes help, but…”

Ash grins. “Of course. Actually, Wolfie can fly. What do you say, Wolfie?”

Wolfgang replies, “And we have someone who’s an excellent climber.” He looks to Amber, who already volunteered.

Amber rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Wolfgang keeps an eye out for tracks or signs of an ambush, just in case. Meanwhile, Daiki scowls. “Why can’t you go get them yourselves? You have arms.”

The boy shrugs. “We’re… not quite decent.”

Masaki puts a hand on Amber’s shoulder. “You don’t have to climb. I’ve got this.” He summons his familiar, a cat-like creature with wings and climbing prowess.

As it heads toward the tree, a voice calls out in Elvish. “Hey! That one speaks our language.”

Another joins in. “What are they doing? This isn’t their job. It’s our joke.”

Masaki halts. He signals for the group to stay close.

“I don’t see them,” Daiki mutters, straining to listen.

Masaki’s familiar confirms—three small, fey-like creatures lounge invisibly in the tree, wearing odd hats.

Masaki raises his voice, calm but firm. “Don’t you think the joke has gone on long enough? They’re not laughing.”

“But we are!” one voice responds. “That makes three of us and only two of them.”

“Well,” Masaki replies dryly, “now there are four not laughing, including me and my familiar.”

Amber and Wolfgang join the group, curious. “What’s going on?” Wolfgang asks.

Masaki translates. “Three entities stole the clothes. They think it’s funny.”

“They should speak Common,” Wolfgang mutters.

“They can,” Daiki says in Elvish, “but they don’t want the joke to end.”

The creatures introduce themselves in Elvish (a language Ash, Wolfgang and Amber do not understand): Puff, Ona, and Ora. When asked to come down, they decline.

Amber scoffs. “So they pulled a prank on naked swimmers?”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” one replies.

Masaki offers a compromise. “We’ll retrieve the clothes. You don’t have to do anything.”

“No,” they chime. “We’ll give them back if you tell us a good joke.”

Masaki translates for the group, and immediately Amber volunteers. “I’ve got one!”

Wolfgang jumps in with a groaner. “Why did Elvis become a baker? Because he couldn’t help falling in loaf with you.” He walks away as silence follows.

Amber shakes her head. “No. Here’s a real one: I tried dating a water genasi once, but it didn’t work out. Total steam.”

Masaki translates, chuckling.

The fey pause, judging the punchline.

Ash tries her hand at comedy, standing before the group with a hopeful smile. “Why do paladins wear chainmail?” she asks, waiting a beat. “Because it’s holy armor.”

Amber stares blankly. “No.”

Tachibana raises a brow. “He…”

Wolfgang cuts in, ever formal. “Miss Ashira, I believe your performances might be better appreciated in a city. A larger crowd may be easier to please. Or are you still burdened by your step-boon’s shadow?”

Ash brushes it off. “Wolfie, come on. We’re just having fun.”

“No one is laughing,” Wolfgang insists. “Nor at mine. Let’s move on—I can’t even see what’s happening here.”

Ash waves it off. “No, no, we can keep going. I have better jokes.”

Daiki, meanwhile, mumbles something in Elvish, trying to translate Ash’s joke. He stumbles a bit, but manages: “Paradigma Nase kusari katibari… holy armor…” He laughs at his own translation. “It’s holy! Holy!” he grins, clearly enjoying the pun.

Ash leans in. “Are they laughing?”

Tachibana assures her, “They’re laughing. Don’t worry.”

Suddenly, the group spots movement in the trees. Clothes shift, and three creatures descend slowly from the branches, becoming visible. Ash steps forward. “Okay…”

The creatures, once on the ground, move sluggishly. Amber peers at them. “Do they all look like that?”

The figures approach, holding the stolen clothes. “Here are the clothes,” one of them offers.

Daiki accepts them with a nod. “Anande,” he says in Elvish.

The creatures blink, surprised. “Oh no, he knows other languages—this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Wolfgang turns to Masaki. “Mr. Masaki, perhaps they know something useful? About the goblins or their queen?”

Masaki takes the clothes. “That’s a great suggestion.”

He asks the creatures, “Do you know anything about nearby goblin camps?”

They recoil. “We stay away from goblins. Filthy. Disgusting. Ugly.”

Tachibana frowns. “I thought that was going to be a joke.”

The creatures shake their heads. “No jokes from us.”

“Disappointing,” Tachibana sighs. “Thanks for the clothes.”

Daiki adds cheerfully, “If you want really funny jokes, you should go to the city. There’s a place—the Peanut Pub. Very funny people there.”

One of the creatures grimaces. “No. We don’t like the city. Too busy. We like the woods.”

With farewells exchanged—“Bye bye!” “Sayonara!”—the creatures slowly climb back into the trees and vanish once more.

Daiki watches them go. “Oh, I like them.”

Tachibana gathers the returned clothes and hands them back to the couple in the bushes. 

“Thank you so much for your help!” they respond. 

“I’m Gregor, that’s Aida. We just came in here for a swim,” the man says, pulling out a handful of coins. “Let me reward you—fifteen silver pieces.”

Tachibana immediately refuses. “Oh no, no. There’s absolutely no need for that.”

Amber, however, reaches for the coins. “I will take them. This is fine.”

“You will not,” Tachibana snaps. “We don’t take money from people for these kinds of things, Amber.”

Gregor looks caught off guard. “Of course, of course…”

Daiki, confused, asks, “What did you do?”

“I came up with a joke,” Amber replies. “But nobody wanted to hear it.”

Tachibana sighs. “It was a terrible joke.”

Daiki, distracted, tries to pet the winged cat that flits around Masaki. “Oh, kawaii neko,” he says, “Kawaii, kawaii.”

The cat perches on a rock and tilts its head at him, unimpressed. Daiki gives up and moves toward Wolfgang—just in time to notice something.

“Guys,” Daiki calls out, “you’re going the wrong way. That way leads away from the city.”

Amber groans. “I’m done.”

“I’ll follow you,” Wolfgang replies flatly.

Gregor and his companion prepare to leave. “We go a different road, but thank you again,” they say.

“Bye bye,” Daiki waves. “Don’t lose your clothes again. I love the forest.”

As the group starts walking back, a familiar voice calls from the trees. “That was very nice of you… not accepting the money.”

Daiki looks up. “Yes? Oh, hello.”

The three duende step down from the trees and become visible again. “It was very good of you not to take it. Do you know what he wanted to do with the money?”

Daiki shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“He wanted to buy a ring for her. A promise to stay together forever.”

“Oh,” Daiki says, smiling. “That’s cute, if you love that kind of thing. Spending your life with one person…”

“As a reward,” one of them says, holding out a single apple, “please take this.”

“Arigatou gozaimasu,” Daiki replies with a deep nod.

“This apple is magical. If you eat it, it heals you a little,” they explain.

“Does it have seeds?” Daiki asks. “So I can grow more?”

“Afraid not,” they reply. “Use it in the next few days—it doesn’t last forever.”

“Thank you kindly, sirs. Have a nice day in the forest.”

“I’m a lady,” one of them quips, grinning.

Daiki flusters. “Oh—I mean, thank you kind… persons. May the forest provide.”

They wave and turn invisible once more.

Daiki turns to the others. “Look how kind they are. They gave us this magical apple.”

Wolfgang raises a brow. “A magical apple… so if you eat it, you’ll sleep until someone kisses you? Or choke?”

Daiki laughs. “I don’t think those apples exist. This one heals you.”

Wolfgang nods. “Mr. Masaki and I have healing potions. Perhaps someone else should carry the apple.”

“I have a potion too,” Daiki says, holding it up. “But now I have an apple. Should we cut it into pieces?”

“No,” Wolfgang decides. “Keep it whole. Use it when it’s needed.”

Daiki turns to Ash. “Want to hold onto the apple?”

“I’ll take it,” she says, reaching out. “Yeah.”

He hands it over. “They said to eat it soon—before it wilts.”

“Okay. I’ll eat it soon,” Ash nods.

As they move forward, Ash plays her drums, weaving rhythms into the forest’s natural hum. Wolfgang tries to walk in time with her beat—until she shifts patterns, and he quickly grows annoyed, falling out of sync.

Still, the group continues marching through the woods, each step keeping tempo with Ash’s echoing rhythm.

---

As the group makes their way through the thinning forest, the city’s silhouette begins to rise ahead, fields and orchards stretching around its base. Daiki, walking slightly ahead, leads them toward the northern gate — the way he remembers best.

Wolfgang falls into step beside him. “Mr. Daiki,” he begins, “you mentioned seeking a leadership style. What exactly are you hoping to lead?”

Daiki hesitates, voice thoughtful. “I think… I’m supposed to be ready in case something happens. The druid who leads our grove is very old. Not visibly, but… old. They want me to understand things better — not just our grove, but the world beyond it. Outside, everything feels… different.” He glances at the trees. “Back home, a yellow flower is delicate. Here, that same flower might have thorns.”

Wolfgang nods. “So, are you the heir? Who chooses the leader?”

Daiki blinks. “Heir? Like, the air?”

“The born successor,” Wolfgang clarifies.

“Oh… well, my mom is the leader of the Dryads, I think. She’s attuned to the biggest tree, so maybe.”

Wolfgang presses gently, curious. “So she leads, but she’s not old?”

“No, no. The Dryads and the Druids are different groups. My family’s among the Dryads. The Druids live near the border of the grove, to protect it. I think I’m meant to lead both, one day.”

“That’s quite a path,” Wolfgang says.

Daiki shrugs. “I don’t think of it as a path to leadership. More like understanding. I don’t want to be a leader.”

Wolfgang smiles. “Those often make the best leaders.”

As they walk, Tachibana chimes in. “And what about you, Rüppelshammer? What does leadership mean to you?”

Wolfgang explains that his family has long held responsibility for defending the kingdom’s western border. “When my father retires, it’ll be my duty to continue that defense.”

Daiki brightens. “So you’re from the mountains?”

“Close,” Wolfgang replies. “Hillsides, with beautiful views of the river. Quiet. Peaceful.”

“I’d like to see it someday,” Daiki says. “I want to study different biomes.”

“You’re all welcome,” Wolfgang assures him, glancing at Ashira.

From behind, Amber mutters, “I just hope we’re allowed through the front door.”

Wolfgang doesn’t miss a beat. “Miss Ablaze, with me, always.”

As they approach the city, Daiki eyes the surroundings. “Any sewer entrances out here?” He scans for signs.

But there’s nothing visible. “Nope. Let’s head for the gate.”

They move forward. Ashira steps through first — and just like last time, her form flickers for a second, translucent and otherworldly.

Daiki notices immediately. “She kind of looks like a ghost for a moment, then normal again.”

Ashira shrugs. “It just happens. Don’t you guys have that?”

“I can’t see myself,” Daiki replies.

Wolfgang, curious, asks, “What is this ghostly shift? Should we be concerned?”

Ashira scowls. “What the hell, Wolfie? Why do you have feathers? I don’t ask you about that.”

Wolfgang tries to walk through the gate with her, hand in hand. As they cross, he watches closely — her appearance shimmers again, briefly ethereal. Her hand feels unchanged.

“She’s very pretty,” Daiki mutters.

Ashira glances at Wolfgang. “I don’t know what it is. It’s not bad. I just… look like this for a bit.”

Wolfgang, ever analytical, mutters, “This isn’t undead… this is more fey.”

He inquires gently, “Ashira, you’ve always lived in Evermere?”

“Yes,” she replies, more guarded now. “Grew up here. Ran away later.”

“Your parents?”

“No,” she cuts him off. “I don’t want to talk about them. I’ve said that before.”

Wolfgang pauses, then nods. “Right. Of course.”

As they reach the guards, Wolfgang approaches the tiefling soldier, asking for directions to the sewage tavern.

Meanwhile, Masaki and Amber exchange glances — both have seen Ashira shift before, both are trying to figure out what she truly is. They come to the same conclusion: she isn’t a tiefling, at least not entirely. There’s something… fey.

Wolfgang casts a critical eye toward Ashira. “You have quick mood changes. Sometimes you overreact to manifestations, act impulsively.”

Ash snaps back, “I’m never overreacting!” Her voice rises, fiery and indignant. “I just feel things. Do you not feel things, Wolfie?”

Wolfgang, calm but firm, tries to elaborate. “It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that. But maybe guidance from a mind cleric, or training with a monk of the Still Path—those monks, they don’t fight the storm inside. They dance with it. Maybe you could find peace.”

Ash shakes her head, emphatic. “Nobody listens to music if it’s just one string. It needs to be dynamic! Loud, soft, always changing. That’s how I live.”

Wolfgang offers, “But couldn’t your music be dynamic and your personality a bit more… stable?”

“You mean boring? Like you?” Ash smirks.

Masaki interjects thoughtfully, “He means your personality could be the metronome to guide your music.”

Wolfgang nods. “Your words speak my mind, Mr. Masaki.”

Masaki adds warmly, “Though I do love seeing your flair.”

Ash smiles. “Thanks, Bana. I know.”

Wolfgang looks at her with concern. “I love seeing it on stage too. But in dynamic situations—politics, stealth, strategy—it might be risky.”

Ash shrugs. “It’s not called a party for nothing. It needs to be fun!”

Wolfgang tries again. “Imagine we need stealth, and you hit a drum—”

Ash cuts in, “That’s like you needing to critique someone’s outfit in the middle of a chase.”

Wolfgang grins. “Which is why you’ll hardly find me improperly dressed.”

Daiki sides with Ash. “You can hold on to a lead, but you won’t stop autumn from coming.”

Masaki, always measured, agrees with both. “There’s a time and place for everything.”

Ash nods. “Exactly. Even the best music has silence. I can stealth. I just want a big, bombastic finale afterward.”

Wolfgang tilts his head. “You write too, right? Musical ideas?”

“Music has to be played, not written,” she replies. “I remember it here,” she taps her temple, “then forget it. That’s life.”

Wolfgang shares an idea. “I met a gnome cartographer once. Made enchanted journals—great for catching thoughts before they slip away. Could help reduce chaos.”

Ash waves him off. “Too static. I live in the moment. I’m not a nerd.”

“But would you like to try?”

Ash smiles slyly. “I’ll try everything once.”

Wolfgang softens. “If we’re friends, we try things. We inspire.”

Daiki steps forward. “Wolfie, stop. We just met. Ash is good as she is.”

Wolfgang insists, “I don’t want her to change. Just become the best version of herself.”

“That is change,” Daiki replies. “And you’re pushing it.”

Wolfgang shakes his head. “Not pushy. Just… going outside the comfort zone. That’s where the magic happens.”

Ash lights up. “That’s so good, Wolfie! We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Don’t propose just yet,” he teases, smiling.

Amber, watching with arms crossed, rolls her eyes. “I’d love to see you leave your comfort zone, Wolfgang. We’ve been in yours since day one.”

Wolfgang chuckles. “It was a great time.”

Ash suddenly brightens. “Time to get out of that comfort zone! We’re going into the sewers. You don’t want your nice dress wet.”

He hesitates.

She grabs his hand. “Let’s go.”

They head toward a simple clothing shop—Matron’s Matters. The sign reads: “Manners Make the Man.”

Amber halts at the door. “I’m not going in. I’ll stand watch.”

Wolfgang pauses, glancing around. No familiar faces. He walks in, unbothered.

Masaki and Daiki follow, curious.

Ash scours the clothing racks, grabbing one garment after another until her arms are full. She marches over to Wolfgang and declares, “You’re going to try all of these on, and we’re going to see how they fit.”

Wolfgang eyes the pile. “Can you describe what you’ve collected?”

Ash holds them up. “One’s like peasant clothes—simple, V-neck with light trousers. Another’s like farmer overalls, blue, very beautiful. I grabbed a few others in different colors. Oh, and a pair of shorts—it’s warm outside.”

Wolfgang glances around. “Is there a dressing room?”

The shop is small and already crowded. The two tiny dressing rooms are occupied, and a third person is changing just outside them.

He pauses, debating whether to make a scene or blend in. Then he shrugs and steps into the blue overalls, slipping them on and checking his reflection in a small windowpane. “Miss Ashira,” he says theatrically, “how could you possibly know this would be my delight? It’s out of my comfort zone—but I’ll take it. Shopkeeper, how much?”

An elderly woman looks up. “Two silver pieces.”

Wolfgang starts to pay, but Ash interjects, “No, Wolfie—it’s my treat. Because we’re friends.”

Wolfgang smiles, thankful. “Then I shall graciously accept.” He tucks the overalls into his backpack.

Ash turns to Daiki, who’s holding up two dresses—a pale purplish one and a strange brownish one. “Ash, which one looks better on me?”

Ash tilts her head. “Do you really like them?”

“I like the shape,” Daiki says. “It reminds me of home. Like an upside-down flower.”

Ash smiles gently. “In the city, that kind of dress is usually worn by girls. But you can wear it if you want.”

“But it’s for the sewers, right? It covers my legs.”

Ash shakes her head. “You’re going to sit in it. It’ll drench and drag. Not practical.”

Daiki sighs. “Then what do you recommend? I don’t want to ruin my only outfit.”

Ash rummages again and pulls out a large pair of pants. “They’re too big, but with some rope, they’ll do.” She ties the ends into makeshift straps, looping them over Daiki’s shoulders, then rolls up the legs. “There. Good for the sewers.”

Daiki wriggles. “It’s okay, I think.”

“Good. It’ll keep your normal clothes clean.”

Meanwhile, Masaki quietly browses and picks out a black undershirt to replace his torn one. He pays the shopkeeper six copper, then asks, “Can you repair this?” He produces the ripped shirt.

The woman nods. “Three copper. By the end of the day.”

Masaki pays and accepts a receipt. “If I’m not back by seven, I’ll come another day.”

As Wolfgang and Masaki exit, Amber lingers outside, debating whether to get sewer-appropriate gear herself—something waterproof, maybe like high fisher’s overalls. She enters the shop, and starts looking for it. Within five minutes, she is outside again, with her purchase. 

Outside, Wolfgang turns to Masaki. “For some cities, there are ancestry records. What about Evermere?”

Masaki shrugs. “Not really. Maybe for the rich or the convicted. Most people aren’t recorded.”

Wolfgang nods thoughtfully. “I’m just curious why Miss Ashira avoids the topic of her ancestry. Mine is otherworldly too. Maybe it’s something we share.”

Masaki frowns. “If she doesn’t want to talk, maybe don’t push.”

“I don’t mean harm,” Wolfgang says. “Just curiosity. But you’re right. I’ll leave it for now.”

They shift topics to the rumored sewer tavern. Masaki recalls vague stories—just rumors, really—and mentions them.

“What do you recommend for blending in?” Wolfgang asks, tugging at his outfit. “This blue overall is already outside my comfort zone.”

Masaki replies, “Lose the jewelry, the nice boots, tone down the accent. You still sound too refined.”

Wolfgang chuckles, then attempts a rougher, more grounded tone. “Big words bad. Got it.”

“Exactly,” Masaki grins. “Keep it simple. Use less grammar. That’ll do.”

---

Masaki approaches Amber, speaking low. “Hey, I was talking with Wolfgang… We’re thinking of getting the axe identified—either by a mage guard or at a magic shop on the west side of the city. The guards could do it for free, but the shop will cost us.”

Amber nods thoughtfully. “As long as I get the axe back, that’s fine. I’d hate to lose it after seeing what Spine can do with it. But yes, I also want to make sure it’s not dangerous.”

Not long after, two mage guards stroll through the city streets. Amber hangs back, avoiding attention. “I’m not approaching them,” she murmurs. “They might recognize me.” She hands the axe to Masaki.

Masaki steps forward. “Good day to you. My party and I recently found this axe outside the city. We’re wondering if you could check for curses or any risks.”

The guards agree. “Set it down here. We’ll need ten minutes for the ritual.”

Wolfgang looks around. “Mr. Masaki, might I grab a drink while we wait?”

Masaki points him to a street vendor. “Try that stand—simple, but solid.”

Wolfgang strolls over, affecting a rough dwarvish accent. “Aye mate, five ales for the lot of us!”

The tiefling vendor raises an eyebrow but smiles. “Five copper for two. Want four? That’s one silver.”

Wolfgang pays and carries the mugs back, handing them out. “Taste this—light on the palate,” he says, offering one to Daiki.

Daiki sniffs it. “This doesn’t smell like water.” He hands it back. “No thank you.”

As the ritual ends, one of the mage guards speaks. “It’s called the Blood Rage Greataxe. If the wielder’s hurt—say, at half health—it hits harder and more accurately. No sign of a curse, though these spells can’t guarantee that. Still, it’s a good axe.”

Masaki thanks them warmly. “Really appreciate the help.”

The mage guard smiles. “Name’s Magnus. If you’re ever at the keep, we’ll see each other again.”

Masaki chuckles. “And you?” he asks the second guard.

“Morgan.”

Masaki nods. “Got it—Magnus and Morgan.”

---

As the group heads south through the inner city, Wolfgang turns to Ashira. “So, Miss Ashira, while we walk—please direct us to someone who actually knows where we’re going.”

The beat carries them along as the group moves deeper into the southern part of the city. Ashira scans the streets. “It’s a bit too clean here,” she mutters. “We need to go further south—too many guards, not enough scum.”

Wolfgang gestures theatrically. “Then I’ll lead the way. But Miss Ashira—things are definitely going south here.”

Ashira gives him a sidelong glance. “Only literally, Wolfie.”

Amber sighs. “You could’ve told that joke to three invisible leprechauns, and they still wouldn’t laugh.”

The banter continues until they pass the southern gates, reaching the outer district. Ashira’s eyes dart across the streets, searching. “I’m not looking for shady taverns,” she explains. “Just the people who go to them.”

She spots someone. A man sits on the side of the road, knees drawn up, hat before him, a few copper coins inside. At first glance, he looks like a beggar—but then her expression changes. “No,” she whispers. “Dylan Burton.”

She approaches, boots crunching lightly on the dust, and gives him a small kick. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged out.”

The man looks up, dazed. “Hello, miss… Do I know you?”

“You’re even uglier than I remember. Doesn’t matter. You’re going to tell me where the Veiled Quill is.”

He blinks slowly. “What’s a lady like you want there?”

Ashira frowns. “That’s my business. Take this silver piece and talk.”

“For a silver, I can bring you there,” he offers.

“I’d rather you tell me.”

“It’s dangerous. Goblins down there. I’ve got keys to the gates, though.”

Amber steps forward, arms crossed. “She’s not alone, as you can see. Just take the silver and talk.”

Ashira narrows her eyes. “Can you give us the keys?”

“I need them,” Dylan mutters. “Scribe wouldn’t be happy if I gave them away.”

“Scribe?” Ashira echoes sharply.

Amber sighs and gently helps Dylan to his feet, brushing off his tattered cloak. “Okay, just walk.”

“That was my idea in the first place,” Dylan grumbles.

Ashira steps away, muttering under her breath. Daiki follows close behind, watching her closely. Something about her posture has changed—rigid, defensive. His keen eye catches a flicker of something deeper: a flash of fear.

Back with the group, Dylan starts explaining the convoluted directions.

“Go west, third corner on the right, then deeper in, fifth or sixth road. Two sewer entrances—one in front of the tavern.”

Amber frowns. “Too complicated,” she mutters.

Tachibana tries to repeat the directions, Wolfgang parrots him, and Amber just sighs, “People are so complicated.”

As they debate, Dylan offers one last word of advice. “There are two ways in—one safer, needs a key. The other? Right in front of the tavern, but you’ll be seen.”

“No key, huh?” Tachibana asks.

“Nope. I need it,” Dylan says firmly.

While the rest argue, Daiki lingers near Ashira. “Are you okay?”

Ashira doesn’t answer directly. She simply glances over her shoulder at Amber, who’s still guiding Dylan, and mouths: What the hell are you doing?

Daiki says nothing, but the answer to his question is already clear. He’s seen the flicker of fear in Ashira’s eyes. And now, he understands.