“Where… is he!?” Haressy panted as she ran through the alleyway, jumping over crates. When she and Otis emerged from the alley, they hurriedly made their way through the crowd, aiming for the next alley.

“Seriously… Haa, haa, the little guy has no right to be this good at hiding…!”

"Aye, but the lad knows the alleys and secret passageways of the city better than any of us, maybe even better than the gang itself, so I can’t say I’m surprised.”

The party had been searching for the young boy for more than two hours at this point without even catching a glimpse of his cloak. The party had split up to comb through the city, just like when they’d tried in vain to hunt down Medoly’s assailant. Haressy didn’t say anything, but she believed the same would happen now. They were completely new to the city, but the boy, a child though he may be, was completely familiar with his surroundings, just as Otis had remarked.

Haressy sighed, then yelped as a blurry figure practically flew past her. She turned to look where the figure had gone when another, clearer figure jetted past her as well, making her unconsciously grab onto her staff tighter.

“Apologies! We think we found him, so please follow! Comb formation A!” The clearer figure, Karsten, yelled over his shoulder as he ran after Henry faster than his legs technically permitted.

Haressy looked back at Otis, and the two set off after the other two, strongly doubting they would find their prey at the end of the run. This had already happened three times in much the same fashion, but all three times, the boy had, by some miracle unbeknownst to God, managed to shake them off each time.

“I swear, that boy uses dark magic!”

“Usually,” Otis said from beside her, “I’d say you shouldn’t jump to conclusions about such things, but by the Night, I think you might be right! I’ve never met a laddie so fickle in my thirty years of living.”

After running to the end of the street, the group entered a narrow alley with the city wall on one side, and houses on the other. The wooden floorboards beneath their feet was covered in water, and they all frowned. They had a bad feeling.

“Karsten, I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t think he’s here-”

Suddenly, a small rod, Haressy couldn’t quite see what it was made of, was thrown out of a window at the end of the alley. The moment it touched the water, electric currents shot out of it, and only Otis and Henry managed to jump out of the way before the currents were upon them.

~-~

Haressy and Karsten were locked in place, completely stunned by the lightning. Henry and Otis would’ve helped, but couldn’t due to obvious reasons - if they touched their teammates, they’d be stunlocked too.

Leaving the two behind in favor of catching whoever threw the rod, Henry and Otis started making their way towards the window it’d been thrown from, using miscellaneous crates and boxes as footing.

Underneath them, the electric currents in the water licked at the air, making the area directly above the surface charged as well. Strangely, the closer the two got to the electric rod, the more flowy and mobile the electricity became - as if it had tendrils it could move through the air. Luckily for Henry and Otis, the tendrils didn’t seem to target them, so, utilizing their high dexterity stat, they maneuvered their way to the center of the miniature lightning storm.

Reaching out with his spear, making sure he was touching only the grip of the spear and not the metal, he placed the tip under the rod and flung it directly upwards as far as he could. The moment the rod lost contact with the ground, Haressy and Karsten dropped to their knees, hair standing on end.

“Bag!” Henry yelled over his shoulder as he eyed the rod that was still climbing upwards.

“Karsten!” He yelled again, then looked to the side when he didn’t receive an answer.

Karsten was sitting dumbly on the floorboards, swaying slightly.

“Huh… What?”

“Tsk.” Henry swore inwardly and used a movement skill, standing next to Karsten in the next moment. “Bag! Bag of holding?”

Karsten blinked a couple times as he stood. “...? Ohh! Haha, here,” Saying so, he slowly took off his bag of holding and handed it to the seemingly fretful Henry. “You should chill out, honestly-”

Henry snatched the bag of holding from the Bard’s hand and ran back to where he threw the rod, undoing the bag’s latch as he went.

Looking up at the sky again, he positioned the bag where he estimated the rod would land.

The small, metal shaft plummeted towards the ground fast due to its shape and weight, so it was difficult to gauge where it would land. Henry honed in on the rod, but his concentration wasn’t so all-consuming that he didn’t notice the shift in the air behind him. He glanced at Otis, and the dwarf caught the hint. Retreating to the wall of a nearby house, he did his best to meld with the shadows.

Henry raised the bag of holding over his head, now certain of the rod’s trajectory, and a smile crept onto his face as he felt whoever was skulking in the shadows behind the open window tremble. Likely in rage.

“No! Stop! Don’t take it!” The figure shot out of the window, intent on seising the rod before it was taken from him, but before the boy’s small body reached the Spearman, two stubby arms reached out from the shadows of the alley and grasped him by the shoulders, pulling him back.

And so, the rod safely landed in the bag.

Henry closed the party’s bag of holding and tossed it to Karsten. It accidentally hit the latter in the face, but this was a minor detail.

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“No! It’s mine! Give it back!” The child kicked and screamed, but his grievances had little effect on the stout dwarf that held him to the ground.

“I win!” Otis proclaimed merrily.

“‘Win’? This wasn’t a race.”

“What do you mean ‘not a race’? If this wasn’t a race, my beard isn’t black!”

Henry chuckled. “Your beard isn’t black anyway, it’s more like a dark brown.”

“Ho, ho! A sore loser, eh?”

“Hey! Listen to me! That rod’s mine, ya hear!” The boy roared, still kicking at Otis’ shins.

Henry shifted his attention to the boy. “So you’re him? You’re pretty good at evasion.”

“That he is!” Karsten nodded as he and Haressy joined the group. “By the way, has anyone seen Malek?”

Haressy shook her head. “No. He should be close by, though.”

“Yeah. Well, we’ll look for him later. First order of business, though…” Karsten crouched down at the boy’s side and removed his hood. He fetched the paper slip from his pocket and flipped it open. “Young boy, check. Looks to be 10 years old, check. Hazel hair and black eyes, check and check…” He looked at how the kid was vehemently kicking his companion’s shin. “And, last but not least, ‘a terrible attitude problem’. I just want to point out that that last part was written by a literal gang member, so you should be proud!” He gestured to a crate by the wall, and Otis sat the kid down on it, letting go of his shoulders. He obviously tried to get away immediately, but seeing Henry practically teleporting in front of him to block his exit stopped his attempts.

“First of all,” Karsten began, dragging over another crate to sit opposite the kid. “We are not enemies. We are technically a part of the gang- sorry, ‘family’, but we’re not, how do you say it, ‘ride or die’? Anyway, we don’t have any ill will towards you.”

The kid glared at him. “So stealing my inherited artifact and kidnapping me is good will nowadays? Hah! What has the world come to?”

Karsten chuckled. “Yes. Either way, we only came here for…” He turned to Henry. “What did we come here for again?”

Henry frowned. “The kid?”

“Well, yeah, obviously, but why the kid? Did Odrinn say anything? Are we supposed to bring him the kid, or did the kid steal something, and now we have to bring it back, or-”

“I didn’t steal anything!” The kid screeched.

“Jeez, alright, blow my eardrums out, I guess.”

The boy drew in a massive gulp of air, but was swiftly stopped by Otis covering his mouth. “By the Mother, laddie, he wasn’t being serious! You’re gonna notify the whole neighborhood!”

“That’th the point! Let me go!”

Karsten sighed. “That’s what I’m saying, we will let you go. Judging by your reaction, I take it you stole something?”

The kid glared at him with a vengeance. Karsten raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, took something. Better?”

The kid scoffed and leaned back on the wall behind him. “I only took back something that’s rightfully mine.”

“And that ‘something’ would be what exactly?”

“An heirloom.”

“Right. And this ‘heirloom’ is…?”

“... a gift.”

Karsten massaged his forhead.

Otis pat the still frizzled Bard’s arm, and took a step forward. “Listen, laddie. We’re not bad folk. We don’t want to take your precious heirloom away from you - Hells, if we’d have our way, we wouldn’t even be in this country, let alone the ‘family’!”

The boy’s expression softened somewhat.

“But please understand, if we don’t preform this task, we’ll all be killed by the Boss.”

“What?”

Otis nodded. “Aye. My friend here, the Spearman, he already died once. The Boss killed him in the blink of an eye at the first sign of defiance, and made us watch as he was resurrected.”

“Resurrection magic…” The boy muttered, looking down at his hands.

“So you have to understand, it is not for us to decide.” Otis finished.

The boy, that couldn’t be more than ten, contemplated for a long time. Many conflicting emotions rose on his face, and in the end, he looked more confused than angry.

“So the resurrection magic worked…?” He asked, shoulders slumped.

Karsten’s brows furrowed. “Yes?” He answered, looking back at Henry. “At least I’m pretty sure it did. You never know, you know,” He shrugged.

The boy sighed. “So they lied.”

“Hm? Who lied?”

“Donna.”

Karsten grew even more confused. “Did Donna lie to you? When did that happen?”

“So long ago! She said they couldn’t resurrect my dad… When they, when they c-could! Waa!”

Otis walked over and sat next to the boy, patting his head.

“I’m sorry, little guy. That’s how gangs are. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Th-that, that *sniff* that doesn’t change anything!”

“Aye, it doesn’t. But that’s life, laddie.”

The boy scowled at him, but when he saw the sadness the dwarf’s eyes reflected back, he burst out crying again.

The Rogue kept consoling the child for the next half-hour before he calmed down. The boy’s face looked like it had been stuck by a thousand bees with how puffy it was, but none of the party members laughed.

“F-fine.”

Karsten bowed. “Thank you, young sir-”

“But it’s on a condition!” The kid proclaimed, shooting up from his seat.

“Let’s hear it.” As much as Karsten empathized with the kid, he’d just tracked through all of the city to find him, been electrocuted, then had to listen to him crying loudly for the last half-hour. If he wasn’t a superhuman, he swore he’d have a headache that could fell mountains by now.

“You have to help me fuck up the gang.”

Karsten gasped. “Excuse me, good sir! Such profanity is hardly fitting for our esteemed surrounds!”

The kid gave him a flat look, which looked funnier than it should have given his puffy state.

“Ahem, what is it a ten-year-old needs help with to mess with a gang?”

The kid looked at him with fierce eyes. It was a look that had no right to be on a young child’s face.

“There’s a person I want killed.”