Jenkins was deeply worried that Magic Miss's plan would go terribly awry. After resting on Tuesday night, he was plagued by unsettling dreams—not of the usual giant black cat, but of fragnted scenes he couldn't recall upon waking.
He considered this a normal dream; the recurring black cat was the anomaly. After all, one rarely rembered the details of a typical dream upon waking.
They had agreed to et at six, but to be on the safe side, Jenkins woke at four. Chocolate, whose internal clock was impeccably precise, had no intention of starting his day two hours early. When Jenkins called to him, the cat remained stubbornly sprawled beside the pillow, refusing to budge.
Even when Jenkins scooped him up, the cat felt like a warm, boneless heap of dough, perpetually trying to ooze from his grasp and back onto the bed. He only seed to regain so semblance of alertness once Jenkins carried him to the dining table.
Holding Chocolate was like cradling a small furnace; a cat's body temperature was naturally higher than a human's. As he ate, Jenkins teased that co sumr, Chocolate would have to sleep elsewhere, lest he raise the room's temperature. For that, he nearly got his face redecorated by a swift set of claws.
Despite his early start, the ladies of the manor joined Jenkins for breakfast at five. Alexia knew the day would be fraught with the unexpected, but she simply reminded him to be careful, expressing her full confidence that he would handle whatever ca his way.
Dolores, for her part, returned the Bowman and Astrologer pieces from her White Ice Five-Piece Chess set to Jenkins, certain they would prove useful.
Jenkins arrived at the black market bar ten minutes early, expecting to wait a while for Magic Miss, but she was already there. When he asked, he learned she had only slept for three hours the previous night and had been waiting since half-past three that morning.
"I needed to think through everything we might encounter today," she explained, "to ensure an operation this long in the making doesn't fail."
An unnatural flush colored her cheeks, and it was impossible to tell if it stemd from excitent or the effects of her profound lack of sleep.
Everything proceeded according to plan. They t at ten to six, spent half an hour reviewing their strategy, and then headed to the Dock Area together. Inside a rented warehouse, they t the team of rcenaries. They were ordinary n, but their gear and bearing were exceptionally professional. Jenkins had no idea where Magic Miss had managed to find them.
Their leader was a burly, dark-skinned man with a distinct Hamparvo accent. In front of his crew, he accepted the second installnt of their paynt from Magic Miss—a quarter of the total fee for the job—before showing her and Jenkins the weapons they had brought.
"In any case, unless absolutely necessary, do not open fire first. And if you must shoot, do your best not to harm any civilians."
Magic Miss stressed the point again. Only after the man gave a solemn nod did she turn to leave with Jenkins.
"Just a mont,"
Jenkins said, raising a hand to stop her. He pointed toward a slender figure standing behind the group of rcenaries.
"Why is there a woman with them?"
"A woman?"
Magic Miss froze, her gaze snapping to where Jenkins was pointing.
"How could you tell? Oh, gods, you're right. It is a woman. What is going on? Why is there a woman here?"
It wasn't a matter of prejudice, but in this era, the likelihood of finding a woman among a company of rcenaries was virtually zero.
"What is the aning of this?"
She lunged, grabbing the rcenary captain—who had just been counting his money—by the collar. He struggled to break her grip, only to discover with a shock that his employer was stronger than he was.
"You take my money and dare to be deceitful?" she snarled. "Do you want to toss you into the harbor to feed the fish?"
Magic Miss had been bottling up far too much stress lately, and combined with her exhaustion, she was a powder keg waiting for a spark. Even Jenkins knew better than to provoke a woman in her state.
"Wait, please! I can explain,"
the man sputtered, held fast by her one-handed grip. His companions instinctively reached for the weapons at their waists. Jenkins sighed at the sight but made no move to intervene.
"What is there to explain?"
Magic Miss's tone was dangerously low.
"Allow to explain."
The rcenary Jenkins had identified stepped forward from behind the others. She had a remarkably plain face; its size, its contours, even the arrangent of her features—nothing about it was morable in the slightest.
It was so perfectly ordinary, in fact, that it seed almost unreal.
"You're... the Huntress from the black market?"
Magic Miss clearly recognized her. After all, anyone wealthy enough to hire rcenaries on the black market had likely encountered the Huntress.
"Don't tell these n are yours," Magic Miss said, her voice dripping with suspicion. "You just wanted a legitimate cover to get into the docks. That way, if anything goes wrong, you can walk away with my money and divert the attention of the Orthodox Churches straight to ."
She released her grip on the man's collar. He imdiately stumbled back a few steps, tugging at the fabric, trying in vain to smooth out the creases.
Jenkins remained silent, standing beside Magic Miss as he listened to the two won converse.
"You're not wrong," the Huntress replied calmly. "If I recall correctly, we've collaborated once or twice before. You're even sharper than I gave you credit for."
"And you're more shaless than I rember," Magic Miss shot back.
Magic Miss held out her hand to the Huntress.
"Give back the deposit. Then take your n and get out."
Magic Miss had every right to be confident. More importantly, both she and Mr. Candle were Enchanters. While the opposing side had numbers, only the Huntress posed a real threat; the other Level 2 Enchanter among them was barely a concern.
"I can return the deposit," the Huntress said. "I can even give you three tis the amount. But the plan cannot change."
As she spoke, the Huntress's eyes shifted to the man who had remained silent throughout the exchange. She had never seen him before, but she had a vivid mory of that white cat.
"A follower of the God of Lies?"
she asked, addressing Jenkins directly. He gave a slight nod in acknowledgnt.
"You see?" the Huntress continued, turning back to Magic Miss. "You can trust a follower of the God of Lies, so why not ? I may have my own agenda, but we will execute your plan without a single error. You can be sure of that."
The Huntress extended her hand, inviting Magic Miss to shake it. But just as Jenkins knew, the twenty-four-year-old woman was not one to compromise easily.
"I have no interest in working with you," Magic Miss declared flatly. "In my view, you're even less trustworthy than a follower of the God of Lies. Now, leave at once!"
"Oh?"
Jenkins felt rather offended.
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