A few days later…
I found myself once again at the Leaky Tavern, slumped over a weathered wooden table in the corner.
My investigation had hit a frustrating wall. The warehouse lead had turned up nothing but empty crates and dust—whoever had been using it as a storage facility had cleared out long before we arrived.
l and Fletra had been diligently following other leads throughout the city, but so far, we’d co up empty-handed.
That was what I would’ve said if I didn’t know, of course.
But right now the tavern was quieter than usual this afternoon. Most of the regular patrons were likely still recovering from their previous night’s excesses.
And when I look back to the newly repaired wall—a surprisingly professional job considering how recently Balthazar had been launched through it.
The tavern owner had apparently spared no expense with the silver I’d provided.
"The usual, sir?"
The silver-haired waitress approached my table, a small notepad in hand.
Her erald eyes held a warmth that hadn’t been there when I’d first encountered her days ago.
The fear that had clouded her features had been replaced by a quiet confidence that suited her well.
I took a mont to really look at her today.
She wore an apricot-colored dress that complented her fair skin, with a crisp white apron tied neatly around her slender waist.
A chef’s cap sat perched atop her silver hair, which cascaded down her back like moonlight on water.
The ensemble was simple, practical, yet there was sothing undeniably elegant about the way she carried herself.
"Yes, please. Chicken risotto." I nodded, offering a tired smile.
"And perhaps so of that elven wine, if you have any left."
She jotted down my order, then paused, her head tilting slightly as she studied .
"This will be your... fourteenth order of chicken risotto in five days, don’t you ever get sick of eating the sa thing?"
"The food here reminds of ho, my mother used to make a dish similar to this when I was a child. Not quite the sa, of course—human cooking techniques differ from elven ones—but the essence is there."
She looked at curiously, blinking as if I had said sothing she hadn’t quite heard before.
"Ho," she repeated softly, as if testing the word.
"That’s... a lovely reason." A genuine smile spread across her face, transforming her already beautiful features into sothing almost ethereal.
"The kitchen will get your order ready right away."
Just as I was settling in for my fifteenth...or was it sixteenth? plate of chicken risotto, a sharp tap on my shoulder broke through my food-induced reverie.
The contact was brief but firm, carrying with it a sense of urgency that imdiately set my nerves on edge.
"Chief of Operations," He said, his voice a dry whisper that sohow carried perfectly through the tavern’s din.
Not a question, but a statent. He knew exactly who I was.
Without another word, he extended his hand, offering a folded piece of paper sealed with plain black wax.
No insignia, no identifying mark. Just glossy darkness, like a promise of what was to co.
I took the letter, my fingers barely brushing against his.
Even that fleeting contact sent a chill through .
His skin was cold, unnaturally so, as if he’d been standing in a blizzard monts before entering the warm tavern.
Breaking the seal, I unfolded the parchnt.
"...!"
The ssage was brief, written in a flowing script that seed too elegant for its sinister contents:
______
Chief of Operations,
Your subordinates send their regards to our humble accommodations. They’re quite... comfortable, all things considered. Whether they remain so depends entirely on your cooperation.
The shipnts you seek are in our possession. If you wish to see your subordinates again—and to recover your Marchioness’s precious cargo co to the abandoned temple in the western woods at midnight. Co alone. Any deviation from these instructions will result in consequences most... unfortunate.
We’ll be waiting.
Black Hearts.
______
My blood ran cold as the implications of the ssage sank in. l and Fletra, captured.
The shipnts confird stolen. And now this ultimatum, this trap so obvious, it might as well have been labeled as such.
I looked up from the letter to find the ssenger still standing before , a thin smile spreading across his face like a crack in ice.
**
FWANG!
[A new main story mission has been added!]
[Main Story Quest: The Lost Shipnt]
[Objective: Rescue l and Fletra from the [???] hideout]
[Reward: Rewards will be calculated upon competion…]
[Failure: Death of Florence Guards, Decreased reputation with Florence House, Possible termination of employnt]
[Ti Limit: 8 hours remaining]
"Tell your masters I’ll be there."
The ssenger’s thin smile widened fractionally.
"Very good." He turned to leave, then paused.
"Oh, and Chief? Do rember to co alone. Your subordinates are... quite fragile."
As the ssenger slipped away, Julian remained motionless, his mind racing.
He’d known this mission would be complicated, but kidnapping? This was escalating far beyond a simple theft.
"WAHAHA!" Vykekard’s voice bood in Julian’s mind, startlingly loud against his troubled thoughts.
"A rescue mission! How exciting! This is your chance to show you’re training, Julian! To save the innocent, to vanquish evil-doers, to—"
"To walk straight into an obvious trap," Julian muttered under his breath.
"Well, yes," Vykekard conceded. "But what’s a heroic quest without a dash of mortal peril?"
Julian sighed, pushing away his half-eaten risotto.
"Those kids... they’re my responsibility. They wouldn’t even be in this ss if I’d been more careful."
"Then we shall save them!" Vykekard declared with characteristic bombast. "We shall descend upon these villains like divine justice! We shall—"
"We shall think this through carefully,"
The silver-haired waitress approached, concern evident in her erald eyes.
"Is everything alright, sir? You’ve barely touched your food."
Julian looked up at her, seeing genuine worry in her expression.
For a mont, he considered confiding in her, seeking advice from this unexpected source of kindness.
But that would only put another innocent person at risk.
"Just business matters, miss, nothing to worry about."
She didn’t look convinced, but nodded politely.
"Of course. Would you like to wrap this up for you to take with you?"
"That would be perfect, thank you."
The waitress nodded and carried Julian’s unfinished al back to the kitchen. While she was gone, he studied the letter once more, committing every detail to mory before carefully folding it away inside his cloak.
When the waitress returned with his food neatly wrapped in waxed paper and tied with twine, Julian paid his bill with a generous tip that made her eyes widen slightly.
"Thank you for your kindness," he said, rising from his seat. "Your risotto truly is exceptional."
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"You’re too generous, sir," she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Will you be returning tomorrow?"
Julian paused, considering the question. If all went well tonight, he might indeed return. If not... well, there would be no need to worry about future als.
"Perhaps," he answered with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Until then, take care."
’Vykekard,’ he thought, knowing the disembodied knight could hear his ntal voice as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. ’Would this be considered a worthy cause to draw the sword?’
There was a mont of silence, unusual for the typically boisterous knight. When Vykekard’s voice finally echoed in Julian’s mind, it carried none of its usual bombastic energy. Instead, it was solemn, almost reverent.
"Julian, my boy," Vykekard began, his voice a gentle rumble in Julian’s consciousness, "a knight’s blade is not rely a tool of destruction, but an extension of his honor, his duty, his very soul. The question is not whether the cause is worthy of the sword, but whether the sword is worthy of the cause."
Julian navigated through a bustling market square, deftly weaving between rchants hawking their wares and nobles being carried on ornate sedan chairs. A group of elven children darted past him, their laughter like silver bells in the afternoon air.
’That doesn’t really answer my question,’ Julian thought dryly.
WAHAHA!
"So impatient, as always! It’s like you want the answer every ti, Julian. Has a decade of my tutelage taught you nothing of the knight’s way?"
Vykekard’s voice carried that familiar tone of theatrical disappointnt that Julian had grown accustod to over the years.
Julian sighed, continuing his path through the winding streets of Silverleaf City.
-’I’m just asking if this is a situation where I can use the sword you’ve been training with for ten years, or should I continue relying on my magic? Two inexperienced guards are in danger because of .’
-Ah, youth! So focused on the tools rather than the heart behind them! In my day, we understood that a true knight’s strength cos not from his blade, but from his—"
’Vykekard,’ Julian interrupted, his ntal voice sharp enough to cut through the knight’s monologue. ’People could die tonight.’
A mont of silence followed, broken only by the distant sound of wind chis and the gentle murmur of the surrounding city.
Julian passed through an archway ford by two ancient trees that had grown together over centuries, their silvery bark gleaming in the late afternoon light.
"Yes," Vykekard finally replied, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "Yes, they could."
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