The sun was already sinking low, lingering just above the rooftops, its pale winter light stretching thin across the town. The cold sharpened as a breeze slid along the street, and Jeanne pulled her coat tight around herself. Her scarf was drawn high, but it did little to hide the flush in her freckled cheeks.

  “Do we really have to stand out here like this?” she asked, each word accompanied by a small cloud of breath.

  “You can go inside right now if you want,” Viktor replied. “Alycia went in ages ago.”

  The plan was that Jeanne and Alycia wouldn’t enter at the same time. They would arrive separately, acting as if their business with the station had nothing to do with each other. And indeed, the blonde was already inside the administrative building, basking in the warmth offered by the grand hall.

  As for him and Claire, they were supposed to wait in the courtyard. Still, he didn’t want to be there for too long, as two figures standing around with no clear purpose were bound to draw attention eventually. And it was not like the courtyard was any more comfortable anyway. So they stayed here, on the street, a dozen paces or so from the entrance, watching the sky grow duller and grayer with each passing minute, promising an even colder night.

  “Well, I’d like to stick around with you guys for a little longer,” Jeanne said. Then she turned to Claire, smiling. “Remember that time we were out on the streets, just like today, freezing our teeth off until the sun finally went down?”

  “Oh?” Viktor asked. “Why? What were you two doing?”

  “Well, I...” Claire replied. “I was selling things...”

  “What things?”

  “Mostly handcrafted stuff. I made them myself. Now looking back, it was kind of naive of me to think anyone would pay for those cheap little trinkets.”

  Jeanne glanced at Viktor. “That was when I’d just gotten to Daelin with my father. I was wandering the streets, and I spotted her when I was about to head home. Blonde hair in a braid, selling her little wares. It was winter, so the streets were mostly empty. There were not many people passing by, and the few who did kept walking as if she didn’t exist.”

  So it was seven years ago, huh? Claire and Quinn’s parents had gone to the North, leaving their children to fend for themselves. Claire had to manage on her own, so she probably tried to scrape together some money the only way she could. Quinn was too young to really understand what was going on, so Viktor, who inherited the boy’s memory, knew very little about what actually happened at that time.

  “To be honest,” Jeanne whispered close to his ear, “I found the stuff she sold was damn hideous, so small wonder no one wanted them...”

  “I can hear you.”

  Jeanne laughed. “Anyway, I started talking to her, and we ended up staying outside together for the whole afternoon.”

  “Until when?” Viktor asked. “The sun went down and you came home empty-handed?”

  “Not quite,” Claire said. “Eventually, a woman approached us. She liked my things so much she bought every last one of them.”

  Viktor chuckled. “She was just taking pity on you.”

  “Well... looking back, that’s probably true. But the me back then was happy. And in the end, did it really matter? Whether she genuinely liked what I made or just wanted to help me, I’m grateful for what she’s done.”

  Viktor turned to Jeanne. “I didn’t know you’ve been my sister’s friend for that long.”

  “Not really,” she said with a shrug. “All we did was spend a single afternoon freezing together. After that, while we did bump into each other a couple of times, I wouldn’t call that being friends. We weren’t really close until she started working at the Guild and I became an adventurer.”

  Knowing Claire, she had probably decided they were friends from the moment they had shared that miserable experience together. Jeanne, on the other hand, seemed to believe there was a certain bar to clear before such titles could be handed out. Viktor wanted to call her too rigid, but to be fair, he was the least qualified person to criticize someone on that matter.

  “Alright,” Jeanne said, adjusting her scarf. “I think it’s time for me to go inside.”

  “Be careful,” Claire said, watching her friend pass through the entrance of the complex.

  “So, that’s how you two first met, huh?” Viktor asked after the red-haired woman had completely disappeared. “What were you talking about, anyway, while freezing your fingers off?”

  “It was a long time ago, so I don’t remember the details. I think I asked her who she was, why she had come to this town, and what she was doing here. She was new, after all. I didn’t recognize her.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Viktor nodded. “She and her father were two weirdos who showed up in Daelin right after the monster attack. Came in while everyone else was busy getting the hell out.”

  “Yes, she told me that, then she asked about me. So I told her about us, about our family, about how Father and Mother left town during the attack—”

  “During?” Viktor raised an eyebrow.

  Claire froze. Her face went pale, as though blood was draining from her body.

  That was odd. According to Quinn’s memory, their parents had left Daelin after the attack. The bad state of the town had pushed them to try their luck in a dungeon in the North. That was what Claire had always been telling her younger brother.

  “I... I...” the woman stumbled over her words. “I mean... after the attack. Yes, they left town after the attack...”

  My dearest sister, you really shouldn’t try lying in front of someone who’s far better at it than you.

  “Well... it’s time, isn’t it? Let’s get inside the courtyard...” Claire said as she quickly turned away, scrambling toward the entrance of the caravan station.

  So it turned out that their parents had left town during the attack, huh? Why, though? And why had Claire felt the need to lie to her brother? Also, if that part of the story was fabricated, could there be anything else made up as well? Did they really die in a dungeon?

  Oh well, whatever. Not that it mattered to him anyway.

  Together, they entered the courtyard of the complex. There were perhaps two dozen people scattered across the space. A handful of drivers stood by their loaded wagons, checking wares or tending to horses. Near the well, a merchant was counting coins into a leather purse while his assistants tightened ropes around stacked crates. A group of porters huddled close together, rubbing their cold hands, their breath rising in faint clouds that mingled with the crisp winter air. No one batted an eye at them as they passed through. After all, people came and went from this place all the time, even in the late afternoon of the last working day of the week.

  “There,” Viktor said, tilting his chin toward a coach parked near a corner. Behind it was the side door, hidden from view. The coach’s placement was perfect; whatever lay beyond it was obscured from almost every direction. That way, Rennald could slip out unnoticed, unless someone already knew the exact spot and had positioned themselves accordingly.

  “So, we need to stick close to the front wall, peek sideways, and wait for him?”

  “Of course not. That’s the only possible angle anyone could see Rennald from, so naturally, the guards are keeping an eye on it. If we linger there for too long, they’ll get suspicious.”

  “Then what do we do?” Claire asked. “If we remain here, we can’t see anything at all. And by the time the coach moves, it’s already too late.”

  “Don’t worry,” Viktor said with a grin. “I’ve got a good trick. Just stay close to me. When I say move, we move. Don’t ask questions.”

  Claire stared at him, clearly dumbfounded, but then she nodded. “Alright.”

  And that “good trick” was, of course, a Thauma. Viktor called it the “Eavesdropping Wind.”

  The idea was simple enough: he conjured a thin stream of air that followed a path he had specified, carrying sound from one location he had chosen, straight to his ear, and only his ear. Claire, who stood right next to him, wouldn’t hear a thing.

  He set the source at the space between the carriage and the side door. The subtle wind would rise from there, drift overhead, then descend to his ear. The Thauma cost four Sigis of Controlling to craft, and therefore cost four Focus to use. It allowed him to continuously manipulate the flow for about twenty-four minutes, which was enough for his purpose, since he was certain Rennald would come out within the next twenty.

  The sound quality was not very good, though. It was fragmented and incomplete, making it hard to actually eavesdrop on conversations. But it was fine. He wasn’t here to listen to the guards’ idle chatter. All he wanted to hear was the sound of the door unlocking.

  And sure enough, barely ten minutes into the wait, the faint but distinct, metallic rattle reached his ear.

  He grabbed Claire’s hand. “He’s coming out. Let’s go.”

  “How... how do you know?”

  “Just a sense of timing. I heard he’s punctual. He always comes out at the exact same time.”

  The explanation was pure bullshit, of course, but Claire had far more important things occupying her mind than picking apart the holes in what he said, so she merely nodded, tightened her grip on his hand, and followed as he led her forward.

  They strode toward the administrative building as though they intended to go inside, but when they were about to reach the threshold, they turned their heads, glancing sideways toward the corner where the coach stood parked, just in time to see the side door open. A man stepped out, tall and composed, clad in a pristine coat that stood out starkly against the muted color of his surroundings.

  Claire broke into a run.

  “Overseer Rennald!” she shouted. The man turned to her, surprise written plainly across his face.

  The guard standing next to the coach reacted immediately, lunging forward in an attempt to intercept Claire before she could get any closer.

  At that exact moment, Viktor tapped his foot lightly against the ground.

  Another Thauma, of course, one that sent a narrow ripple across the earth. It was very subtle; no one could have noticed it unless they had been staring directly down, actively looking for it. It stopped just short of the guard, who stepped on it. He tripped, and went down in an undignified sprawl.

  No one suspected a thing. After all, all eyes were on the young woman charging toward Rennald. Even the fallen guard himself would probably think he had lost his balance in the haste.

  Claire vaulted past him without a glance and skidded to a halt right in front of Rennald.

  “Overseer,” she said quickly. She knew she didn’t have much time left, so she kept firing words one after another at the man. “I’m from the Adventurer’s Guild. Guildmaster Isadora sent me. She wants to meet you. To discuss the future of the town. She’s received news that Guildmaster Clovis of Iskora is planning to build a new settlement on the ruins of Voskryn—”

  The guard on the ground scrambled to his feet. Another leapt from inside the coach. Two men, employees of the station, burst out through the side door. All of them stared at Claire, hands reaching forward, all ready to seize her.

  “Stop!”

  Everyone froze mid-motion, dumbstruck. After all, the order came from none other than Rennald himself. After having shaken off the initial shock, the Overseer had raised his hand and stopped his subordinates.

  His commanding gaze now swept over the two persons who had suddenly appeared before him. First Claire, then Viktor.

  “This is not the place to talk,” Rennald said in a low voice, glancing at the coach. “Come inside, both of you.”

  Wait, what?