Filleon scoffed at the interest of including De’jard in his plans and made his way to the door.

“How rude of you to ignore someone who is only trying to help,” De’jard chuckled.

Filleon stopped in his tracks, turning to glare at De’jard. “I don’t need your help,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

De’jard simply shrugged. A mischievous glint in his eye was all too noticeable. “Suit yourself,” he said. “But don’t come crying to me when things don’t go as planned.”

Filleon gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of anger rise up within him. He despised how De’jard seemed to get under his skin with his carefree attitude and playful demeanor.

But as he turned to leave, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, De’jard had a point. Perhaps he did need help with his plans. The boy stole his book and Margaret caught him leaving the safety of his castle. To make matters worse the city paladins were after him without knowing who he was, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t kill him because of the noble’s influence. Nothing went right. An absolute mess to say the least.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. He couldn’t afford to let his pride get in the way of the success he wished for Sarai. But it was his daughter. No one can be trusted. He would do this on his own, without any help from anyone else.

Filleon poked his head through the door and looked around the empty street. He could still hear some of the paladins roaming the streets but none of them were close enough to get the jump on him.

Thank the Gods for that heavy armor but how do I do this now? Dammit.

His mind began to race as he made his way through the inner district. Filleon knew he was being stubborn, but he couldn’t help it. He had always been fiercely independent aside from doing his “kingly” duties.

Although, something had been nagging at him. A small voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe he needed help. Yet again, he pushed it aside, refusing to listen to the doubts that threatened to undermine his stubborn confidence.

The further he walked alone down the unlit street, the more he realized he was more vulnerable than he had ever thought. There were so many variables at play, so many more things that could go wrong. And his daughter was still on an unknown time limit. It was always possible her illness could spontaneously get worse despite the alchemic support from Dimir.

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The thought sent a chill down his spine, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. He had to admit, he was intrigued by De’jard’s offer of help, even if he was hesitant to accept it.

He stopped in front of a large, ornate gate door made of steel and obsidian. One of the four surrounding gates that separates the inner districts from the outer districts. As he reached for the handle, his hand hesitated for a moment but true to his nature, it was too late. He had made his decision, and he would have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

As soon as Filleon heard the sound of the gate opening, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had made it out of the inner district and was one step closer to leaving the city, despite his interruptions. However, his relief was short-lived as he came face to face with two paladins who were in the middle of eating their flank soup while walking back to their posts.

It was a standoff. Their eyes locked onto him, then to each other, and finally back to him. Filleon froze. He didn’t know whether to fight or flee, but the sight of their partially eaten meat made up his mind for him. He turned to run, but he heard the paladins’ footsteps right behind him.

Filleons sprinted as fast as he could, his heart pounding with fear. He could hear the paladins’ heavy breathing and footsteps getting closer and closer. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that they were gaining on him despite having full bellies.

In frantic desperation Filleon took a sharp turn to the left and ran towards the nearest alleyway. The paladins followed suit, their swords glinting in the light of the moons. His lungs felt as if they would burst at any moment.

As he rounded the corner, Filleon’s eyes caught sight of a gaping hole in the ground beside a heap of broken barrels. Without a second thought, he flung himself into the hole.

Unfortunately, the paladins did not have the luxury to make a decision. They crashed into the barrels before ricocheting off each other and tumbling into the abyss after Filleon.

Filleon tried to hit the ground and roll off of his good arm. The adrenaline carried him to his feet despite the throbbing in his other arm. He grabbed hold of his sword and whipped his body around to face his pursuers.

However, as he surveyed the scene before him, he was left speechless. The two paladins lay upside down, twisted and tangled amidst the rubble. Their necks were grotesquely contorted, their bodies clearly broken and lifeless. Filleon’s heart sank as he realized that his desperate attempt to escape had led to unintended and fatal consequences.

I must carry on for my daughter, but this is not what I wanted for my people...this needs to be over as soon as possible.

Filleon slowly sheathed his sword with a heavy heart and tried to avoid looking at the gruesome scene before him. As he took a deep breath and looked ahead, he realized that he found his way into the underground tunnels.

It would seem that I have been blessed with the luck of the Celestials. I think I remember this location too, what luck indeed.

He quickly rummaged through his satchel and found a rag, a small vial of oil, a small club, and his flint and small tinder blocks.

He took another look behind his shoulder and sighed, Or maybe not.

With the makeshift torch in hand he pressed forward.