[9 Days until the Gods’ Tournament]

[2 Days until Blackcloak membership is due]

[Name: Sal]

[Class: Rogue]

[Level: 16]

[Attack: 35]

[Agility: 18]

[HP: 90/90]

[Affinities: Poison]

[Role: Chef]

[Skills: Knifework lvl 10, Poison Resistance lvl 9, Soft Step lvl 8, Throwing Knives lvl 7, Toxic Intuition lvl 3.]

[Potions and Alchemic Store: Smoke Potion (2), Mana Potion (1), Frost Seed (5), Mana Drain (1), Invisibility Potion (1) (modified), Health Potion (3), Orchid Poison (2), Sleeping Potion (1) (concentrated).]

Despite all that, I can only comfortably fit six bottles on my bandolier. I keep that in my Inventory for now, because I’ll need to be covert, and a bunch of potions strapped to my chest are decidedly not that. My knife goes at my hip on my belt, my scarf at my neck, and of course my headband, now a standard part of my attire, is kept snuggly over Maru’s mark on my forehead. Over all of this I wear a black cloak, borrowed from Cyros.

All that in place, I’m ready.

My chest feels tight. There’s still two days until the due date for the Blackcloaks, but tomorrow is the council meeting, which means tonight’s the night I need to act to fulfill the quest’s requirements. That’s just fine by me. After I get through tonight, I’ll be a real member of the Guild, and I’ll need to leverage every advantage they can offer to prepare for the Gods’ Tournament.

Right now, though, I need to stay focused on my mission.

My stomach flutters nervously as I allow myself to consider what that means. Captain Enrold. I’ll have to drug him. I hate him, and so it’s not like that breaks my heart or anything. But knowing how close I’ll have to get to him in order to do it… Well, I try not to let myself feel how scared I really am.

I take a breath in, then let it out, carefully boxing my feelings away. It’s not like I can go back now, even if I wanted to.

I step out of my room and head down into the tavern. It’s still late afternoon, the sun up but coloring the horizon, and there are half a dozen people at tables eating the standard stew. Guilt faintly stings my conscience. I’d been so busy getting ready for tonight that I hadn’t even helped Iski with meal prep today. I’ll have to make it up to her tomorrow, when I can breathe again.

“Sal?” Gugora asks as I head for the front door.

I bite down on my tongue, willing myself to sink into the floor. Reluctantly, I turn around to face him.

His eyes narrow at my suspiciously dark attire. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” I say.

“Don’t stay out too late. It will be night soon.”

“I’m going to Fairwood. I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Gugora stares at me. He doesn’t ask for elaboration, and I’m relieved, because I don’t know if I could lie to him at this moment.

“I think you should stay,” he says instead.

I swallow. “I can’t.”

“Then will you at least be careful?”

The emotions are threatening to leak out, and I rein them back in. “I’ll try.”

He nods slowly. “Be back here tomorrow.”

“That’s the plan.”

Gugora sighs. He looks like he’s got more to say, but Iski calls him then.

“Gora! We’ve got some orders at the bar.”

Gugora looks from me to her and then back to me again. He lingers, and so do I. Like I’m waiting for him to say something that could fix everything. Like words will prevent the Blackcloaks from killing me if I fail their mission, or prevent the gods from killing me once they realize I’m alive. I just want to live, I want to tell him. And I’ll do anything it takes to keep from dying again. Anything.

“Coming,” Gugora says, leaving me.

I leave then, too.

The air outside is tinged with the cool breath of the coming night, and I suck it in like I’d been drowning. No doubts. No hesitations. I can only keep moving forward. Tonight, every move I make will need to be decisive.

The night has settled quiet and cool like a blanket over the woods by the time I make the familiar trek back to Fairwood. It’s only been two weeks since I was first taken here by Enrold’s crew, falsely accused of murder. I smile wryly at how that’s turned out.

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Once up in the city, I trace a path to the Guard’s Hall. Plenty of streetlights have bloomed to life, bioluminescent bugs rattling around globes strung up through the streets, but there’s more than enough patches of dark to hide and wait in.

According to Echo, I wait one hour and twenty-three minutes.

People head in and out of the Hall all night long, mostly guard rotations, chatting and laughing with one another. If they take their position seriously, they sure aren’t showing it. Finally, however, I see the hulking figure of a familiar form step out into the night. He turns and strikes out into the streets, and I follow, using Soft Step to quietly trail him.

It must be close to midnight when we finally arrive at his home. Unlike Talia’s house which requires access to be granted to anyone allowed on the grounds, Enrold’s abode is more humble, a cluster of hanging rooms which might fit inside the Starlight Inn twice over, and no security gates in sight. I don’t know if it’s that Talia has more money to spend on security as a noble, or if it’s just that Enrold is cocky enough that he would never expect anyone to make a move against him. I suppose both might play some part.

He disappears inside as I settle into a hiding spot I’d previously picked out among the trees. Cyros and I had scoped the place out earlier this week. The bridges that surround Enrold’s property are made from wood planks and vines, swaying slowly in the breeze, and creaking beneath any misplaced step. While the rickety footpath poses a noisy threat, one upside is that his house is so remote, there’s no street lights nearby. I wait in the shadows, counting the minutes as they pass.

The light that had been on when Enrold first entered goes out a few minutes later. Now everything is quiet, dark, and still, yet my pulse is beating rapidly in my ears like a set of drums. This is it.

I remove my bandolier of potions from my inventory and strap it in place. The lowest bottles clink against my knife when I move, so I pull my knife from its sheath and add it to my inventory instead. Giving it another few minutes, just to be safe, I decide I need to move. It’s now or never.

I climb up a lattice of vines that are suspending the wooden path, then climb over to Captain Enrold’s house, bypassing the creaky planks. I slide down another vine, softly landing on the roof of one of the rooms. It’s the furthest away from where I last saw the light on, so hopefully any sound I make will be muffled. Letting the instincts from Soft Step guide me, I pad my way over to the open chimney. From my previous investigation, this should lead into his living room, and aside from his front door, it’s the only way into or out of the house.

All light is consumed by the hole leading down into the room. It’s a pit of black, a yawning mouth, waiting to swallow me up. There’s a tremor in my hands, and I try to still them. Keep moving forward.

I swing my legs over the lip and into the abyss. Pressing my feet against one wall, I brace my back against the opposite, and push. Slowly, quietly, I inch my way down. Images of Enrold’s face appearing beneath me or a light flickering on to expose me keep flashing through my mind no matter how hard I try to dislodge them. My heart flutters with nervous energy.

It feels like an eternity passes until I reach the bottom. When my foot finally touches the floor, I want to let out a sigh of relief. Instead, I breathe out slowly and silently, lowering myself into a crouch. There’s pieces of wood in the hearth around me, and I take care not to disturb them. I sit there, unmoving, for several minutes. The silence rings in my ears.

As my vision adjusts to the dark, I can start to make out my surroundings. In addition to the fireplace there’s a seating area and table; a dining or living room of sorts. The kitchen is on the other side of the house, two rooms down.

Slowly creeping out of the fireplace, I straighten up. Two doors on two different walls. The one to my right leads outside. The one to my left should take me where I want to go.

I step softly over to the door and grab the handle. My heartbeat picks up, and my skin tingles. Enrold should be asleep. I confirmed his schedule with Cyros already. I’ll be fine. This will all be over in a matter of minutes.

I push, and the door creeps open. The gentle scrape of wood on wood sounds like a buzzsaw in the quiet house. I freeze, holding my breath. Nothing moves. The silence continues to press in. After a minute or two, I continue to push the door open, and it swings softly inward. I slip through.

Another not-kitchen. This room has some sort of tools in it—weapons, I think. I can make out large shadowy forms along the walls, glinting where the filtered moonlight strikes them. Two more doors face me. This time I’m not sure which one to pick. This room doesn’t have windows, so I wasn’t able to get a solid understanding of its layout in advance. Both doors should lead further into the house, but which one leads to the kitchen?

I pick the door to my right. Once again I try the handle, quietly press the latch, and then inch it open.

This room is black. No windows, no light of any kind. And I think I can hear breathing.

Echo. Check.

[Enrold, level 32 dhampyr blood guard,] Echo says.

Fear electrifies me. I struggle against my lungs which want to gasp, against my limbs that want to shake. Enrold’s in here, sleeping, just feet away. He could spring to his feet in an instant, grab me before I could even react, slam me into the ground—

I fight against the intrusive thoughts, despite the adrenaline spiking through my body and, glacially, I pull the door back closed.

As I release the doorknob, I let out a slow, shaky breath. I stand there for another minute, listening for any sounds that he might have stirred. Nothing happens, however. Heart still hammering in my chest, I step away from the door.

The last one I try is the kitchen.

Relief floods through me. Finally. I can just lace his food with the drug and then get out of here. I take a moment to look around.

A small stove with a single slim smokestack sits in one corner of the room, just large enough to warm some bread—not even wide enough to fit a cauldron. There’s a few jars of herbs on some shelves, but nothing like Iski’s kitchen. That’s technically food stuff, but not the steak I know he chomps down on each morning. I keep looking.

A basin is set into the counter. Some empty dishes sit nearby, a few with stains, others clean. I check the cabinets, and it’s mostly mugs and dishes. All that’s left is a chest against the wall, which I initially avoid due to the spell circle carved in its top. I still haven’t learned to read runes or lines, so I’m not sure what it does, and I don’t want to screw with magic that might be a trap. However, after turning up very little meat and creeping closer for a proper inspection, the faint blue glow from the circle is illuminating a crust of ice that’s flecking the chest’s seam. I cautiously lift the lid, peering inside.

Bingo.

There’s stacks upon stacks of frozen meat. Keeping the lid propped open, I pop the cork off the concentrated Sleeping Potion Cyros bought for me, and begin dribbling the liquid all over the food. I’d tasted a drop of it myself this last week: it has a faintly bitter taste, but no smell. He’ll probably notice as soon as he takes a bite, but hopefully by then it’ll be so potent it won’t even matter. Just in case, though, I plan to stick around till morning and make sure to finish the job if the potion doesn’t take full effect. I’ve got the mana drain potion and some orchid poison I could use as well; in moderation it won’t kill him, just make him violently ill. Not as subtle as sleeping through the Council Session, but hey, whatever I have to do to get the job done.

I empty the entire bottle over the top row of the meat. I keep the lid open for a few minutes longer, ensuring the liquid doesn’t freeze on top before it has a chance to sink into the food, then slowly shut the lid and step away.

It’s done.

My pulse is finally slowing down to non-lethal levels again. The hard part is over. Now I just need to sneak back out, hole up in a hiding spot somewhere, and watch how things unfold in the morning.

And that’s when Echo says, [Role Requirement.]