The scene shifts to Mei and Amilco, standing amongst the other monks, their eyes scanning the crowd. They were on high alert, vigilant for any signs of trouble. The monks had already apprehended several individuals attempting to infiltrate the ballroom, likely bandits seeking to capitalize on the attendees. There were also those who, despite not being bandits, were causing disturbances. Some were attempting to sell illicit goods, while others were becoming increasingly intoxicated, leading to altercations.

In one instance, on the east side of the ballroom, there was a food festival set up for those who wished to showcase and sell exquisite dishes from their respective cultures. This added another layer of vibrancy to the event, but also presented a new set of challenges for the monks. They had to ensure the safety and security of the food vendors while also maintaining order amongst the enthusiastic patrons.

A drunken brawl had erupted, requiring the intervention of the monks to separate the combatants. The individuals involved were subsequently apprehended by the authorities.

Amidst the chaos, Mei and Amilco, ever vigilant, kept an eye out for any suspicious activity. They questioned those who appeared out of place, discreetly searching their pockets for any contraband, including the red vial, hoping to crush it and trace it back to their hideout. However, they found nothing to indicate the location of the stolen idol.

While they were searching for the idol, they also took the opportunity to pass out flyers for their monastery. This was more than just a publicity stunt; it was a strategic move.

By increasing the monastery's visibility within the kingdom, they hoped to attract potential recruits and expand their influence. They believed that showcasing their martial arts skills and their commitment to protecting the people would inspire others to join their ranks and learn the ways of the Shaolin.

After a couple of hours of passing out flyers and maintaining order, Mei and Amilco found a quiet corner near the edge of the ballroom and sat down on a nearby bench to rest. They both took long drinks of water, the cool liquid a welcome relief from the heat of the night.

Mei sighed, exhaustion evident on her face. "The idol is still gone," she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. "Eighteen hours of walking and yet no sign of it."

She shook her head, "I wish I knew who was there when it happened. I wish I wasn't asleep during the whole theft."

Amilco placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Mei," he said softly. "We did our best. Sometimes, these things happen."

Mei felt a little grudge in her mind, a little bit of resentment starting to brew. "We would have found it sooner if we hadn't been distracted by that… that street performer," she muttered, "Ebony."

Amilco raised an eyebrow. "Ebony? You think he had something to do with it?"

Mei shook her head, "No, not necessarily. But we wouldn't have been chasing bandits and rescuing him if we hadn't met him. You really got to stop meeting random strangers off the street, Amilco."

Amilco chuckled, "Easy for you to say, Mei. You're the one who insisted on helping him."

Mei replaced "insist" with "suggested." "I suggested we pass out some flyers, you wanted to go buy him a suit and then buy him something to eat while we should have just looked for the idol instead."

But it was also thanks to this friendly encounter. We know that the same person that broke into his home is the same person that stole the idol," said Amilco illogically. "You wouldn't know that unless you met him.”

Mei rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. But still..." She paused, considering her thoughts. "Honestly, I don't really have an opinion on him.

The fact that he was homeless, that he made money as a street performer, that he didn't have a lot of money… it didn't really bother me. I just… I felt like he abandoned us during the fight. It just rubbed me the wrong way, despite him being a citizen."

"I won't let you disrespect my boy like that, Mei," Amilco said, puffing out his chest in a playful imitation of a tough guy.

Mei rolled her eyes. "We just met the guy, Amilco," she reminded him.

Mei continued, "You should have picked the monkey symbol because you mostly resemble the animal rather than a tiger."

Amilco was too distracted to respond to Mei. His gaze was fixed on a figure moving through the crowd: a woman cloaked in a dark purple hood, her movements fluid and predatory as she slipped and slid through the throngs of people, her hands dipping into pockets with practiced ease.

But Amilco wasn't just observing. The tattoo of a tiger's leg and its tail, inked on his forearm, began to vibrate subtly against his skin. A shiver, not of cold, but of a primal instinct, ran down his spine. He could almost smell her, a faint scent of night and danger, and he could feel her movements, her predatory intent, as if his senses were somehow heightened, attuned to her presence. He watched her, mesmerized, like a predator tracking its prey.

Amilco stared intently at his target, his eyes narrowing. "No, Mei," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm afraid I have to disagree." He looked at her, his eyes reflecting a predatory glint.

Mei, sensing the shift in his demeanor, turned to follow his gaze. "What do you see?" she asked, her voice cautious.

"I see a thief," Amilco replied, his voice a low growl.

Mei and Amilco got to their feet, the playful banter forgotten. Mei, understanding the gravity of the situation, stared intently at the crowd, trying to spot the thief Amilco was tracking.

Amilco, however, needed no further instruction. His eyes were locked on the hooded figure, his senses heightened, ready to spring into action.

"Remember that alleyway where we were attacked?" Amilco asked, his voice low. "There was a distinct smell, smoke and sweat. I believe this person robbed Ebony while we were distracted."

Mei's eyes widened. "You think this hooded figure is the one who stole his money?"

Amilco nodded, a predatory glint in his eyes. "It's a possibility. We need to be careful. This person is skilled."

Right behind you," Mei said as she followed amilco. As she got closer, Mei saw the person Amilco was trailing.

"Is that the one?" she said, her voice low.

Amilco replied, "Yep."

Both of them quickly, but calmly, walked towards this hooded figure, drawing closer as she slipped and slid through the crowd, trying to pick pockets.

What Priscilla did not know is that now she was being tracked. And the tables had been turned. She was trailing them, but now Amilco was coming up with his own conclusions on Priscilla. Amilco came up with a one-word description describing her: "Stupid."

"This thief is really dumb to start picking pockets while we are around," Amilco muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. "She either knew we were here but didn't get the memo and decided to take the risk, or she's just that stupid."

Priscilla, the thief, was about to reach into another pocket, but Amilco grabbed her wrist before she could make the attempt. "That'd be the last pocket you steal from, thief," Amilco growled, his voice echoing through the Fairgrounds.

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone turned to witness the confrontation.

When Amilco looked at the thief, he was surprised. She looked older than him, perhaps in her late twenties. "How could someone even older than me still be such a dirty thief?" he thought to himself. "I hope I don't grow up like you."

Priscilla, the thief, was about to reach into another pocket, but Amilco grabbed her wrist before she could make the attempt. "That'd be the last pocket you steal from, thief," Amilco growled, his voice echoing through the Fairgrounds.

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone turned to witness the confrontation.

Priscilla, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement, looked up at Amilco.

"Thief? Me? You've got to be kidding me," she said, feigning innocence. "I'm not a thief, you know. I'm just… trying to make a living."

Amilco scoffed. "Trying to make a living by pickpocketing innocent people? That's your idea of 'making a living'?"

Priscilla shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Look, I'm not proud of it, okay? But a girl's gotta eat. Besides," she added with a dismissive wave of her hand, "it's not like I'm hurting anyone. These people won't even miss it."

Amilco felt a flicker of irritation. "That doesn't make it right," he said firmly. "Stealing is stealing, regardless of who you're stealing from."

Priscilla rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's not like I'm robbing a bank. It's just a little bit of extra cash here and there. Besides," she added with a sly grin, "it's not like anyone's going to miss a few coins, are they?"

Amilco remained unconvinced. He saw through her feigned nonchalance, her attempts to justify her actions. This woman was a professional, a skilled thief who operated with a chilling efficiency. He had a feeling that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

The sudden commotion had drawn the attention of the guards, who were now approaching them. Priscilla, realizing her luck had finally run out, slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Looks like my luck has finally run out," she muttered.

The two guards arrested Priscilla, leading her away from the crowd.

Amilco and Mei watched her go.

"Just another day at the office," Amilco remarked.

Mei nodded in agreement.

The two guards arrested Priscilla, leading her away from the crowd. Amilco and Mei watched her go.

"I never understand why people would pick such a cheap thrill as thievery," Mei remarked.

"Well, Mei," Amilco replied, "It's cheaper just to steal something than it is to pay for it."

A bystander, a gentleman of about 40, who had witnessed the entire exchange, chuckled. "You are very intelligent for a kid," he remarked. "Get your age."

Amilco, flattered, thanked him. "It's from the gift of my Monastery," he replied. He then handed the man a flyer, "Perhaps you'd be interested in learning more about the Shaolin Monks?"

The gentleman took the flyer, a curious expression on his face. "Shaolin Monks, you say? Interesting..."

Amilco smiled. "Indeed." He turned back to Mei, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Looks like our little publicity campaign is working."

Mei grinned. "Seems so."

They continued to observe the Fairgrounds, their vigilance renewed.

The crowd, after the initial commotion had subsided, quickly returned to their festivities. Music resumed, laughter filled the air, and the Fairgrounds once again buzzed with activity.

Mei, as she and Amilco continued their patrol, received a few grateful smiles and even a free sample of some delicious-looking pastries from a grateful vendor.

Amilco, however, was met with a different kind of reception. He received a few unimpressed stares, some snickers, and even a few muttered comments about his appearance.

"What was that about?" Mei asked, noticing the less-than-enthusiastic reactions.

Amilco shrugged. "I guess some people don't appreciate a monk interfering with their 'fun'." He chuckled. "Or maybe they just don't like my face."

Mei couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry," she said, "You're not the most handsome monk I've ever seen."

Amilco feigned offense. "Hey!"

Despite the minor setbacks, Amilco and Mei continued their patrol, their vigilance unwavering. The Fairgrounds, once a scene of near chaos, was slowly returning to a state of peaceful enjoyment.

"You know what, Mei," Amilco said, "I think we should go find that idol. I had a feeling it's closer than we think."

Mei couldn't respond. She was in the middle of eating her pastry. But she did nod her head in agreement.

"We passed out enough Flyers. Let's get back on that hunt. I wouldn't mind beating a couple of Bandits to go get it back," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Mei nodded in agreement. "Yes," she said, her voice weary. "We should."

They did some stretching, their shoulders slumped, and made their way back towards the ball entrance.

A newfound confidence filled them as they prepared to complete their quest. Mei even had a cheeky smile on her face, determined to get their property back.

◇

Ebony, exhausted but exhilarated, sat down on a bleacher near the edge of the ballroom. His fingers, though weary, still traced the contours of his lute. He was now engaged in conversation with a fellow commoner, a baker named Thomas, who was regaling him with tales of his misadventures in love and the challenges of running a bakery in the heart of the city.

Ebony listened intently, captivated by Thomas's stories. He realized that the evening had been more than just a performance; it had been a chance to connect with people, to share stories, and to find a sense of belonging in this grand, yet sometimes intimidating, kingdom.

"You wouldn't believe the trouble I had with that last batch of bread," Thomas chuckled, wiping a stray crumb from his beard.

"Turns out, adding goblin tears to the dough makes for a rather… explosive loaf."

Ebony raised an eyebrow, "Goblin tears?"

Thomas grinned. "Long story," he said, leaning closer. "See, I was never meant for this life of baking. I always dreamt of adventure, of exploring the unknown. So, I packed my bags and headed out, intending to become a renowned adventurer." He paused for dramatic effect. "I found a cave, deep within the Whispering Woods, where I planned to train in the ways of the sword."

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Ebony chuckled. "And?"

"And," Thomas continued, "the cave was filled with trolls."

Ebony blinked. "Trolls? You mean the big, ugly ones with clubs?"

"The very ones," Thomas confirmed. "Apparently, they had a weekly knitting circle there. And their knitting needles? Let me tell you, those things are sharper than any sword I've ever seen."

He sighed. "I ended up spending the next few months learning to knit instead of sword fighting.

And to make matters worse," he added with a wry smile, "I fell in love with their knitting instructor. A lovely troll named Griselda. She left me for a goblin blacksmith, of course."

Ebony burst out laughing. "A goblin blacksmith?"

Thomas shrugged. "Apparently, he had a better selection of knitting needles."

Ebony shook his head, still chuckling. "Well, at least you learned to knit," he said. "That's a useful skill."

Thomas grinned. "Indeed it is. And now, I bake bread with a touch of troll magic. Makes it extra… chewy."

Ebony chuckled, enjoying the unexpected turn of the conversation. He realized that life, like a well-baked loaf of bread, was full of unexpected twists and turns, and sometimes, the most unlikely adventures could lead to the most surprising results.

"I've seen you here for the longest time, and yet I never truly know you, Ebony," Thomas remarked, sipping his ale. "How long have you been here?"

"Nine months," Ebony answered.

"Damn, nine months," Thomas exclaimed. "What were you doing at that time? Where were you from before you came here?"

"Well, I came from Dimito," Ebony replied.

"What? You're from that rich kingdom? But you couldn't afford the… couldn't afford the housing there so you left, no?"

Ebony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been kicked out of my house. I've been kicked out of the palace. I've been banished. My dad said that if I'm going to do my music, I might as well do my music alone. He said I could really use the extra cash cuz unfortunately I got robbed today."

Thomas was saddened by the news. "Oh, I'm so sorry about that, man. Yeah, I came here to get money but you know they already booked a musician for this event anyway so…. any Pearlcoins or amount would greatly be appreciated."

Thomas put down his ale and stood up. "Come on, Ebony," he said, placing a hand on Ebony's shoulder.

He then called out to the crowd, "Listen everyone! Can I have your attention? Can I have your attention?"

The crowd slowly quieted down, turning their gaze towards Thomas.

"Everybody," Thomas continued, "can you do me a favor and give a round of applause to our Bard right here for entertaining us and bringing good smiles to our faces this entire night."

The crowd erupted in applause, cheering for Ebony.

Ebony started the blush and bowed to the crowd.

Thomas continued, "Hey unfortunately this poor gentleman right here lost all of his valuables all his valued coins if you've earned putting smiles to our faces in the fountain Courtyard entertaining the passerby that come around here so I would ask you to do us a favor and donate to this man so he has something to eat sleep and drink knowing that he can afford it."

The entire crowd looked at each other and said, "Of course! I have some coins to spare!" "Gladly!" "One after another, all of them would gladly say they would definitely donate to him and give him enough for his great servitude playing music for the city and common folk."

They gathered around a box with a sack on top of it and began to donate to Ebony, dropping coins and even a few silver pieces into the sack.

Ebony was overwhelmed. He had never expected such generosity. He looked at Thomas, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Thomas," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're a true friend."

Thomas grinned. "Just trying to help a fellow musician out," he replied. "Besides," he added with a wink, "it's always good to have a little extra coin in your pocket, especially when you're traveling with a troll."

Ebony laughed, his spirits lifted. He knew this night, despite the initial setbacks, would be one he would never forget.

Hey listen ebony if you have any trouble, we will take care of you. You're one of us now, bard. Your family now.

Ebony was so happy and joyful he held back some tears. His eyes started to water, but he was fair enough not to cry. All he could just say to the crowd was "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The girl from the Fountain came up and gave him a hug. "You were amazing," she whispered.

"Thank you," Ebony replied, his voice husky with emotion.

"Oh, ebony, this is my sister, Siciliana," Thomas introduced.

"Hello," Siciliana said, her smile warm.

Ebony, still a little overwhelmed, managed a shy smile in return.

And just like that, Ebony found himself surrounded by new friends, his heart overflowing with gratitude. He realized that even in the darkest of times, kindness and compassion could always be found.

◇

The ball had finally concluded. Ebony, counting his earnings, was overwhelmed. He had amassed a staggering 922 pearl coins – a fortune for a street musician!

"Thomas," Ebony said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of money, "I think I might have a bit too much here."

Thomas, ever the pragmatist, chuckled. "I'll hold onto a quarter of it for you," he offered, "as a kind of… personal piggy bank. You don't want to carry all that around."

Ebony, relieved, readily agreed. "Thanks, Thomas. I only need about 200 for the some supplies."

Thomas grinned, taking a small pouch from his belt.

"Consider it an investment," he said, carefully transferring 700 pearl coins into the pouch. "I won't spend a single coin until you need it," he assured Ebony.

Ebony, feeling a renewed sense of purpose, smiled. "Thanks, Thomas. You're a true friend."

With his newfound wealth and a renewed sense of hope, Ebony prepared to leave the Fairgrounds. He had come to the city seeking a fresh start, and tonight, he felt like he had finally found his footing.

As he carried his 222 pearls, Ebony couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. He had more than enough to buy himself a decent meal, maybe even a new set of strings for his lute. And finally, finally have enough to buy himself a short sword. He felt a renewed sense of purpose, a feeling of hope that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"I can finally start fresh," he muttered to himself, a determined glint in his eyes. He looked towards the bustling city, a sense of adventure stirring within him.

He had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, Ebony felt truly alive.

“But First, I had to learn how to fight. "I can ask Amilco," he thought. "He can teach me how to throw a punch, or that one Flip kick he did." He rubbed the bruises on his face, a grim reminder of his recent encounter with the bandits. "One at a time, Ebony," he reminded himself. "Baby steps."

Ebony began to walk towards the edge of the Fairgrounds, his heart filled with a newfound sense of purpose. He had found his place, his calling, and he was ready to embrace the adventure.

Ebony, despite his initial excitement, suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. He stopped abruptly, his gaze sweeping across the moonlit streets.

He had that feeling again – the same unsettling sensation he had experienced when he was being hunted by Mitchell and the bandits.

He wasn't being paranoid, was he?

He looked over his shoulder, but the streets were deserted. Still, the feeling persisted. He was being watched.

Ebony quickly tucked the pouch of coins into his belt, his hand.

instinctively reaching for the lute, which he now held like a shield. He moved cautiously down the street, his senses on high alert. He had to be careful. Someone, or something, was watching him.

As he walked down the moonlit street, Ebony heard a distinct sound – the soft thud of approaching footsteps. The sound grew louder, closer, until Ebony realized he was being followed.

He quickened his pace, but the footsteps matched his own, growing closer and closer. Fear began to grip him. He was being chased.

Ebony broke into a run, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to get away.

As he walked down the moonlit street, Ebony heard a distinct sound – the soft thud of approaching footsteps. The sound grew louder, closer, until Ebony realized he was being followed.

He quickened his pace, but the footsteps matched his own, growing closer and closer. Fear began to grip him. He was being chased.

Ebony broke into a run, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to get away.

He didn't notice the two shadowy figures watching him from a nearby alleyway. Amilco and Mei, who were actually conducting surveillance in an attempt to locate the thief who had stolen the idol from their monastery, were shocked to see Ebony running frantically down the street, pursued by an unseen assailant.

Amilco, his instincts kicking in, immediately recognized the danger. "Mei, get ready!" he hissed, his eyes fixed on the fleeing figure.

And with that, Amilco launched himself into a sprint, his muscles rippling as he pursued the unseen assailant who was chasing Ebony.

Ebony, cornered, fought back. He snatched a loose plank of wood from a nearby pile and hurled it at his pursuers. The plank whizzed past, narrowly missing its target. Undeterred, he grabbed a handful of pebbles and flung them at his pursuers.

His pursuers, however, were equally resourceful. They retaliated by throwing a heavy sack of grain at Ebony, forcing him to duck and weave through the narrow alleyway. The sack crashed into the wall behind him, sending a shower of grain cascading down.

Ebony, realizing he was outmatched, made a desperate decision. He sprinted towards a nearby window, shattering the glass with a powerful kick, and plunged into the darkness within.

He landed with a thud on a pile of soft cushions, disoriented but unharmed. He had landed in a luxurious sitting room, filled with expensive furnishings and ornate decorations. He was inside a wealthy merchant's house.

He quickly scanned the room, searching for an escape route. He spotted a window, high up on the wall, and made his way towards it, his heart pounding. He had to get out of there, and fast.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of shattering glass from below. Looking down, he saw his pursuers, Mitchell and Surter, scrambling through the broken window, their eyes locked on him.

Panic surged through Ebony. He was trapped.

Meanwhile, Amilco and Mei, having witnessed Ebony's daring escape, were trying to determine the identities and motives of his pursuers.

"Those two were incredibly coordinated," Mei observed, "They moved with a precision that suggests they're not just common thugs."

Amilco nodded in agreement. "They were experienced, almost…professional. Mercenaries, perhaps? Or maybe they belong to a well-organized criminal organization."

Just as they were discussing the situation, a small, sharp object whizzed past their heads. They both ducked instinctively, narrowly avoiding the projectile.

"What the–!" Mei exclaimed, looking around for the source of the attack.

Priscilla, who had somehow managed to escape the guards, stood across the street, her face contorted with a mixture of anger and determination. In her hand, she held a small, throwing knife.

"You think you're so clever, do you?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

" WHAT, how did you escape the guards? ," Amilco said with a shocked expression.

Priscilla unleashed a barrage of projectiles – knives, dagger, even hatchets – at Amilco and Mei. They ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the onslaught.

Priscilla, a master of urban combat, used hit-and-run tactics, throwing objects at her pursuers and then disappearing into the shadows. Amilco and Mei, though skilled, were struggling to keep up with her erratic movements.

Ebony, cornered, fought back. He snatched a decorative vase from a nearby side table and hurled it at Surter. The vase shattered on impact, sending shards of porcelain flying.

Surter roared in frustration, "You worthless street urchin!" and lunged at Ebony, his fist swinging towards him.

Ebony, dodging the blow, slipped past Surter and made a break for it, sprinting towards the main door of the opulent apartment. He could hear Surter's enraged shouts behind him, "Don't let him get away!"

Ebony, panicked, scrambled across the plush rug, dodging furniture and vases as Surter and Mitchell gave chase. He could hear their heavy breathing, their curses echoing through the opulent sitting room.

He tried to find cover behind a towering grandfather clock, but Surter, with a grunt of effort, simply shoved the clock aside, sending it crashing to the floor. Ebony, cornered, had no choice but to face his pursuers.

Surter, eyes blazing with fury, grabbed Ebony by the collar. "You're going to pay Where's my pearls ?!" he snarled.

Ebony, struggling against Surter's iron grip, felt a surge of adrenaline. He had to fight back. He lashed out with his feet, connecting with Surter's shins. Surter stumbled back, cursing.

Seizing the opportunity, Ebony darted towards the main door, but Surter, with a roar of frustration, grabbed him by the ankles and hurled him through the shattered window.

Ebony tumbled out onto the cobblestone street below, landing with a painful thud. He lay there for a moment, dazed and disoriented, before scrambling to his feet. He had to get away.

Looking up, he saw Surter and Mitchell leaning out of the window, their faces contorted with rage. "Go ahead and start running. I dare you!" Surter yelled before disappearing back inside the opulent mansion.

Ebony, limping down the alleyway, heard the frantic barking of dogs and the shouts of people. He was being chased, and he knew he couldn't outrun his pursuers for long. He had to find somewhere to hide.

Meanwhile, back at the window, Priscilla, realizing she was cornered, turned and fled down the alleyway, her laughter echoing through the night.

Amilco and Mei, their faces grim, gave chase. "You're not going anywhere, Priscilla," Amilco growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Priscilla, however, was a skilled escape artist. She darted through the maze of alleyways, weaving in and out of the shadows, her laughter taunting them. "Try and catch me!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the night.

Amilco and Mei, despite their martial arts training, found themselves struggling to keep up with the agile thief. She was a blur of motion, disappearing into the darkness and reappearing just as quickly, always one step ahead of them.

They were now running down the same alleyway that Ebony had fled down moments before, completely unaware of the young musician's predicament.

Surter and Mitchell reached the bottom of the well where Ebony had been thrown out of the window. They surveyed the scene, the shattered glass glinting in the moonlight.

Surter, his eyes scanning the ground, noticed a trail of blood leading away from the window. "He's hurt," he growled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But he's still alive."

Mitchell, his face pale with anger, knelt down and examined the bloodstains. "He won't get far," he snarled. "We'll find him."

And with that, the two of them, fueled by a mixture of rage and determination, followed the trail of blood, their footsteps echoing through the deserted streets.

The chase continued, Priscilla darting through the labyrinth of alleyways, her laughter echoing through the night, taunting her pursuers. Amilco and Mei, despite their martial arts training, struggled to keep up with her.

Priscilla found herself cornered in a narrow alleyway. But with a quickness that belied her petite frame, she launched herself upwards, her hands finding purchase on the rough brickwork. In a matter of moments, she had scaled the wall and disappeared onto the rooftops.

Amilco and Mei followed suit. They swiftly scaled the wall, their years of martial arts training allowing them to effortlessly navigate the urban obstacle course.

She was a blur of motion, a symphony of agility and cunning, disappearing into the shadows and reappearing just as quickly, always one step ahead.

This was no ordinary chase; it was a thrilling game of cat and mouse played out against the backdrop of the sleeping city.

Priscilla, a seasoned urban acrobat, moved with a grace that belied her tough exterior. She leaped from rooftop to rooftop, her laughter echoing through the night, taunting her pursuers.

Amilco, a master of parkour, matched her pace, his movements fluid and precise. Mei, slightly less agile but incredibly observant, kept a watchful eye on Priscilla's movements, anticipating her next move.

They chased her through a labyrinth of rooftops, leaping across narrow gaps, dodging gargoyles, and navigating the treacherous terrain.

Finally, Priscilla reached a wide gap between two towering buildings, a chasm that seemed impossible to cross. Amilco and Mei, their hearts pounding, watched in disbelief as Priscilla gathered herself and then, with a powerful thrust of her legs, launched herself across the gap, landing gracefully on the rooftop of the building opposite.

Amilco, hesitating for a moment, looked at Mei. "Ready?" he asked, a glint of determination in his eyes.

Mei nodded, her eyes fixed on the retreating figure of Priscilla. "Let's go."

Taking a deep breath, Amilco launched himself across the gap, his body arcing through the air. He landed with a soft thud on the opposite rooftop, his focus unwavering.

Amilco and Mei, their faces grim, exchanged a determined look. They would not let her get away. The chase had just begun, and it was about to get a whole lot more dangerous.

The chase continued, a silent ballet of death played out against the backdrop of the sleeping city.

Priscilla was like a shadow, flitting across the moonlit cityscape. Amilco, relying on his tiger instincts, anticipated her moves, his senses heightened. Mei, with the crane's precision, mirrored his movements, her eyes sharp.

Suddenly, Priscilla whipped around, a glint of metal flashing in her hand. She hurled a handful of ball bearings at Amilco. He instinctively threw up an arm to shield his face, the bearings clattering harmlessly off his forearm.

But the momentary distraction was all Priscilla needed. She vanished down a narrow passage between two buildings, leaving Amilco and Mei momentarily blinded.

"Where'd she go?" Mei exclaimed, peering into the darkness.

Amilco sniffed the air, his tiger senses tingling. "This way!" he said, already sprinting towards a low, crumbling wall.

He leaped across the gap, landing with a soft thud on the other side. Mei followed close behind, her movements graceful despite the urgency.

They continued the chase, adrenaline pumping. Priscilla was leading them on a dizzying path, across rooftops, through courtyards, over fences.

The rooftop chase was intense. Priscilla, agile as a cat, darted across the moonlit tiles, leaping over chimneys and ventilation shafts. Amilco, relying on his tiger instincts, anticipated her moves, his senses heightened. Mei, with the crane's precision, mirrored his movements, her eyes sharp.

But Amilco's instincts were growing stronger. He could sense her presence, feel her fear, almost taste her desperation. He knew they were closing in.

Suddenly, Priscilla whipped around, a glint of metal flashing in her hand. She hurled a handful of ball bearings at Amilco. He instinctively threw up an arm to shield his face, the bearings clattering harmlessly off his forearm.

But the momentary distraction was all Priscilla needed. She vanished down a narrow passage between two buildings, leaving Amilco and Mei momentarily blinded.

"Where'd she go?" Mei exclaimed, peering into the darkness.

Amilco sniffed the air, his tiger senses tingling. "This way!" he said, already sprinting towards a low, crumbling wall.

He leaped across the gap, landing with a soft thud on the other side. Mei followed close behind, her movements graceful despite the urgency.

Priscilla was leading them on a dizzying path, across rooftops, through courtyards, over fences.

But Amilco's instincts were growing stronger. He could sense her presence, feel her fear, almost taste her desperation. He knew they were closing in.

Amilco, senses ablaze, followed the scent trail. It led them through a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, the smell of Priscilla's cloak growing stronger with every step.

Suddenly, the trail veered sharply, leading them towards a darkened doorway. Amilco paused, his instincts screaming a warning. Something wasn't right.

Mei, ever cautious, peered into the shadows. "What is it, Amilco?"

He sniffed the air again, confusion clouding his senses. The scent was there, stronger than ever, but... different. There was another scent mixed in, something familiar, something... canine?

Before he could voice his concern, a small, scruffy dog darted out from the doorway, Priscilla's cloak worn over the dog's head. The dog, startled by their sudden appearance, yelped and ran off in the opposite direction.

Amilco and Mei stared in disbelief. They had been tricked!

"The cloak!" Mei exclaimed, realization dawning on her face. "She used it as a decoy!"

Amilco cursed under his breath. Priscilla had outsmarted them, using their own heightened senses against them. But how had she managed to get her cloak onto a dog? And where had she gone?

Ebony stumbled through the darkened alleyway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Pain throbbed in his ankle, and his head spun. He clutched his side, feeling the warm stickiness of blood seeping through his fingers.

Damn those bastards! he thought, his anger momentarily eclipsing the pain. He had to get away, find somewhere to hide.

He spotted a narrow gap between two buildings and squeezed through, collapsing in a heap behind a stack of crates. He could hear Surter and Mitchell's enraged shouts echoing in the distance, their footsteps pounding the cobblestones. They were getting closer.

Panic clawed at his throat. He was trapped, cornered like a rat. He fumbled with the pouch of coins at his belt, the weight of them suddenly unbearable. He had to lighten his load, but where could he stash them?

His fingers brushed against the small, red vial Amilco had given him. A potion, the monk had said. But don't drink it.

Ebony frowned. What kind of potion wasn't meant to be drunk? Desperation gnawed at him. Maybe it would give him the strength he needed to escape, to outrun his pursuers. Or maybe... maybe it was a healing potion.

He uncorked the vial, hesitated for a fleeting moment, then tipped it back and swallowed the contents.

The taste was revolting – like bitter dust and ashes. He gagged, his throat constricting. He coughed violently, red powder spewing from his mouth and nose.

What the hell...? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at the red residue in disbelief. This wasn't a potion at all. It was some kind of... powder?

Suddenly, a chilling realization dawned on him. He had been tricked. Amilco hadn't given him a potion.

Ebony's coughing fit echoed through the alley, drawing unwanted attention. A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back.

"Gotcha!" Surter snarled, his face contorted with rage. He slammed Ebony against the brick wall, the impact sending fresh waves of pain through his body.

Mitchell appeared beside them, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "Trying to hide from us, eh? Not so clever now, are you?"

He punched Ebony hard in the stomach, the air whooshing out of his lungs. Ebony doubled over, gasping for breath. Surter shoved him to the ground, sending the pouch of coins scattering across the cobblestones.

Ebony, dazed and disoriented, scrambled for the spilled coins, desperation fueling his movements. He had to get away, had to protect his earnings.

But before he could even rise to his feet, a foot slammed down on his hand, grinding his fingers into the rough stone. He cried out in pain, his eyes shooting up to meet the gaze of his attacker.

A woman stood over him, her face obscured by the shadows of a hooded cloak. Her eyes, however, glittered with a predatory intensity. Ebony recognized the glint of steel in her hand – a wickedly sharp dagger.

It was Priscilla, the thief from the ball. But Ebony, unaware of her identity, saw only a dangerous adversary blocking his escape.

Ebony's coughing fit echoed through the alley, drawing unwanted attention. A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back.

"Gotcha!" Surter snarled, his face contorted with rage. He slammed Ebony against the brick wall, the impact sending fresh waves of pain through his body.

Mitchell appeared beside them, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "Trying to hide from us, eh? Not so clever now, are you?"

He punched Ebony hard in the stomach, the air whooshing out of his lungs. Ebony doubled over, gasping for breath. Surter shoved him to the ground, sending the pouch of coins scattering across the cobblestones.

Ebony, dazed and disoriented, scrambled for the spilled coins, desperation fueling his movements. He had to get away, had to protect his earnings.

But before he could even rise to his feet, a foot slammed down on his hand, grinding his fingers into the rough stone. He cried out in pain, his eyes shooting up to meet the gaze of his attacker.

A woman stood over him, her face obscured by the shadows of a hooded cloak. Her eyes, however, glittered with a predatory intensity. Ebony recognized the glint of steel in her hand – a wickedly sharp dagger.

It was Priscilla, the thief from the ball. But Ebony, unaware of her identity, saw only a dangerous adversary blocking his escape.

Mitchell stepped over Ebony, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Should've taken the deal when you had the chance," he sneered, jabbing a finger into Ebony's chest. "Now, it's gonna cost you."

Ebony, defeated and aching, simply nodded. He had no fight left in him. He gestured weakly towards the scattered coins. "Take it," he rasped, his voice hoarse.

Mitchell knelt down, scooping up the pearls and handing them to Priscilla. She counted them quickly, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Surter, meanwhile, had spotted Ebony's lute lying discarded on the ground.

He picked it up, strumming a few chords. "Nice instrument you got here," he said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He plucked at the strings, a discordant melody filling the air.

Ebony's heart sank. He knew what was coming.

This wasn't just about the money anymore. This was about breaking him, crushing his spirit.

Surter grinned, raising the lute above his head. "Shame to have to do this," he said, his voice dripping with false regret.

Ebony closed his eyes, bracing for the sickening crunch of splintering wood. This was it. His livelihood, his passion, about to be destroyed.

Surter brought the lute down with a sickening crunch. Ebony cried out, the sound of splintering wood echoing his own inner anguish. Again and again, Surter smashed the instrument against the cobblestones, each blow a hammer to Ebony's soul.

Ebony couldn't take it anymore. He surged to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his hand and ankle. "Stop it!" he screamed, lunging towards Surter.

Surter, caught off guard, stumbled back. He raised the shattered lute defensively, swinging it towards Ebony's head. The impact sent Ebony reeling, a sharp pain exploding in his skull. He collapsed back onto the ground, his vision blurring.

"Think you can attack me, boy?" Surter roared, his face contorted with fury. He raised the splintered lute and brought it down on Ebony's back with a vicious swing.

Ebony cried out, pain lancing through him. He curled into a ball, trying to shield himself from the blows. But Surter was relentless, raining down blow after blow with the broken instrument.

Mitchell joined in, kicking Ebony in the ribs and stomach.

Ebony gasped for air, his body wracked with pain. He felt a rib crack under Mitchell's boot, and a wave of nausea washed over him.

"That's for messing with us," Mitchell snarled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Next time, you'll know better than to cross us."

Priscilla finished counting the meager pile of pearls. "212 pearls," she announced, a hint of disdain in her voice.

Surter scoffed, turning back to the battered Ebony. "Two hundred and twelve!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "You risked your life for a measly two hundred and twelve pearls?" He shook his head, disgust twisting his features. "You're pathetic."

Ebony, still curled on the ground, said nothing. Shame and exhaustion washed over him. He had fought, he had fled, and for what? A pittance. He felt utterly defeated.

Surter, disgusted by Ebony's perceived weakness, roughly grabbed the front of his tattered velvet suit. "Get out of my kingdom," he snarled, shoving Ebony backwards. "And don't come back."

Ebony, though battered and bruised, felt a spark of defiance ignite within him.

He spat a mouthful of the red powder at Surter, the dust catching in the bandit's beard and staining his fine clothes. Then, remembering the rest of the vial in his pocket, Ebony poured the remaining powder into his palm and smeared it across Surter's chest in a gesture of contempt.

Surter, enraged, retaliated with a final punch to Ebony's face. "Should have taken the deal, stupid boy," he hissed, momentarily stunned by Ebony's unexpected defiance. He wiped at the red powder staining his expensive doublet, his face a mask of fury.

Ebony lay on the ground, his once-fine velvet suit, a gift from Amilco, now tattered and torn. The precious gold he'd earned, the symbol of his newfound success, was gone, stolen by those who sought to exploit him.

He was lucky to still have the 900 pearl coins Thomas was holding, but that money, meant for a new life, would now be consumed by the cost of healing. The dream of buying a short sword, of learning to defend himself, seemed distant and unattainable.

His throat burned, his breath still ragged from ingesting the red powder. The pain in his face, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Mitchell's gang, was now amplified, a throbbing testament to Surter's brutality.

Banished from Iomud, he had lost the family he'd found in the townsfolk who had cheered for him, who had embraced his music. The hope of training with Amilco and Mei, of becoming more than just a bard, now felt like a cruel mockery of his shattered dreams.

he was just embarrassed and ashamed and just wanted to cry.

Ebony lay on the cold cobblestones, his body aching, his spirit broken. The kingdom, once a place of joy and music, now felt like a tomb.

Half an hour later, two figures emerged from the shadows. Amilco and Mei rushed towards Ebony, their faces etched with concern. They were too late.

Amilco rushed towards Ebony, his face etched with concern. They knelt beside him, their eyes filled with worry and regret.

Amilco and Mei knelt beside Ebony.

Time seemed to slow. Amilco gently lifted Ebony's head, his brow furrowed with worry as he examined the cuts and bruises. Mei, her expression more reserved, carefully wiped the dirt and blood from Ebony's face.

A heavy silence fell between them. Amilco's eyes were filled with anguish; he had failed to protect the young bard he had befriended. Mei's face held a flicker of regret, but her grief was less pronounced, her connection to Ebony not as deep.