“When, exactly, did I agree to this?”

We'd allegedly come to the cobbler to buy Riley and Wolfe appropriate footwear for out the field but then, without any sort of warning, Riley had demanded to know my choice for a pair of dress shoes to match my yet to be purchased outfit for the gala.

“Just now at lunch,” she says, flabbergasted. “It just happened. Lucy, don't back out.”

Replaying the events in my mind. Arriving, ordering, food coming out, eating the food, talking to the chef, leveling up, coming here. That had been it. Wait, no. Agreed to something she'd said when they'd all been staring at me. Riley's expression imploring. Got to be kidding me.

“You choose for me, they already have my measurements. Wait, actually, I'll do it.” Turning to the cobbler. “I want the cheapest pair of dress shoes you have.” Amending my statement at a glare from Riley. “Okay, I meant the cheapest, least ugly pair of shoes you have. My budget is fifteen silver.”

Riley only getting more incensed. Wolfe unable to hold it in and beginning to laugh.

“I'll choose,” says Riley. “Give me twenty silver and I'll cover the rest, you unbelievably stingy bitch.”

“Here's thirty. I'm going to want change.” Turning to the cobbler, “Their actual shoes cost that much, there isn't enough material on any of those dress shoes to justify costing more than that.”

The cobbler, too much of a professional to crack a smile at my outburst, only raising his eyebrows.

“Kate,” says Riley, “I'll see you guys in a bit, bring this pain in the you-know-what over to the dress shop.” Turning to me. “What color dress are you getting? No, wait, let me guess, black.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It's a summer gala but black's fine. Just don't change your mind and get yellow or pink or the shoes may clash.”

Being led out of the cobbler by Wolfe like a recalcitrant child, my arm held the entire way. Entering the clothing store and the proprietress, smelling money, descending on us three steps in.

“She,” pointing at Wolfe, “needs proper clothing for field work, and we probably need the bloodstains taken out of our current clothes, and I need you to stitch this arm here.”

“She,” says Wolfe, pointing at me, “needs a dress for the gala. Her only criteria is that you spare no expense.”

“I can definitely do both,” says the woman. “I need your help, we have customers.” The shop girl appearing and, predictably, giving me the stink eye.

“Kate, can you do me a favor and deal with that urchin, while I go with this nice gentlelady?” The wretched brat's glower only deepening.

“I'll deal with you both,” says the woman. “But give her those dirty clothes, we need to get them cleaned and mended.”

Down to our skivvies in the back of the store by the mirrors. Me, slim, lithe and short. Wolfe, thicker, bustier, and, of course, without even trying, taller. Wolfe dealt with first, some measurements taken, looking at a couple different options, then going into the back of the store with the tailor. The woman coming up to me, opening her mouth to spout some bit of prattle, but immediately being cut off.

“Hold on. Let me explain something to you real quick. I know that you know who I am.” Her mouth becoming a thin line. “I'm playing chaperon to these girls at the moment, but my primary concern for the next few days is being attacked. I've made a few waves but nothing's bitten, though I haven't been completely careless, either. I'm probably safe, but I don't want to get complacent. So my criteria for an outfit is a little different. I need something suitable but with some freedom of movement. If it has a sash or something to conceal a weapon, even better. And I need a sewing kit and some spider's silk thread.”

The bell for the front door jingling as Riley entered the store.

“That's the other one there. See what you can dredge up.” The woman turning away to fulfill my request. “Oh, and the current outfit you made for field work fits great. You have my thanks.”

“You're quite welcome, Ms. Macarthy,” she says, before disappearing into the back.

The decision ending up between a dress with sash, or a cuter one without. It should have been an easy choice, but the one without is quite flattering. Riley and Wolfe already done, wearing their new outfits and waiting on me. My outfit had already been fixed and cleaned.

“Ms. Macarthy,” the woman coming over and speaking in a quiet tone, “I may not appreciate exactly the situation you've found yourself in, but a handful of my customers over the years have had similar concerns regarding formal wear.”

“Did they choose the uglier one?”

“Not uglier, that other one just isn't as suitable for your frame. You have something I believe you're overlooking when it comes to concealment. How are you going to style your hair for the gala?”

Rocking my head back and forth, the braid swishing left and right.

“It hadn't even crossed my mind, but I see your point. I'll take the one without the sash.”

Ringing up the items but the entire spool of spider's silk thread way out of reach. Bartering down to three two foot sections, and replacing the old string securing the end of my braid with those three, wrapping the first, then the next, and then the last. The extremely strong, multihued thread changing colors depending on the light.

Early afternoon and stormclouds already starting to roll in.

“I'm out of the dorm for tonight, but I'll meet you tomorrow at the West Gate, eight in the morning?”

“We'll be there,” says Wolfe. “We're going to the temple now, try and get it done before the sky opens up. You were right about the weather.”

“I had a feeling. Evie, Kate, have a good night, I'll see you in the morning.”

After sharing our goodbyes going our separate ways.

***

Walking toward the library but realizing partway there was no money to buy lunch for my master. Stopping and considering. Need to get something together simply to pay to sleep somewhere tonight. It's a shame my clothes were already cleaned, they're going to have to get dirty again.

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Heading into the sewers and doing my utmost to kill and skin as bare a minimum of rats as possible, as delicately as possible. Runic Shield had definitely gotten stronger. Yesterday it held them in place. Today, with enough effort, it could press in with enough force to crush their little bones. Killing them like that made skinning more difficult, however, the bodies becoming mushy, and the pelts less valuable as the innards spilled out in various places.

Getting dripped on by the ceiling and, on impulse, using Runic Shield to stop the drops. The water hitting, producing small flashes of light and sound, and then running down along the outside, making a slight hiss as it went. Physical elements can be stopped by the shield, it seems, but those magical in origin, like the hag's bolt, not so much.

Emerging from the sewers and cashing out at the furrier, slightly over twenty silver, enough for a room, and maybe something small for dinner. Had been thinking about holding off on heading over there until tomorrow, but the rooms and food are cheap enough. Besides, need to try and get some updates and intel. A single raindrop hitting my head. One final item for prep.

Sitting on the side of the road under a tree and removing my outer shirt. Undoing one of the strands of spider's silk and then slowly, inexpertly stitching the Rune of Deflection design on the outside of upper pocket on the shirt. Finishing, not having used the entire thing, but the thread too tough to cut. Leaving the remainder inside the pocket. Touching my finger to the design and activating the rune. The rain had started to come down fairly hard. Concentrating above me and spreading out the shield like an umbrella in an attempt to stop the rain.

***

Walking across the entire city in the pouring rain has been, thus far, one of the best practical exercises for using the shield. With the start being a bit touch and go - more than a few drops making it through - but once discovering equilibrium even heavier gusts of rain unable to penetrate the crackling barrier. The arcing light and flashes also serving to turn heads, making my passage easy as those people still going from place to place under umbrellas and cloaks got out of the way.

Grabbing hold of the Rat Cellar door and then refreshing every rune before opening. They only respect strength. Coming in seemingly cloaked in power, and dry from the rain, should make them make them think twice. Opening the door, the light and sound of the rain hitting the shield attracting attention from the patrons within. Stepping over the threshold and letting it revert to its normal inactive and invisible state. A pregnant pause overtaking the establishment, with looks ranging from surprise to curiosity to amusement. Walking over to the table currently occupied by beard, giant and the scar faced man, with mutters and talk following in my wake. Tossing my pack onto the floor under the table, taking off my gloves and taking a seat.

Beard, confused, about to say something, and then looking at giant. Giant, never in the habit of saying much of anything, a slow smile overtaking his face, and then looking at scar. Scar, with a broad smile and a friendly nod, gesturing at me with his hand.

“Well hey there sweetie,” he says. “What's your name?”

“You know goddamn well who I am.”

My response drawing howls of laughter from the three, and the rest of the patrons getting over their initial hesitation and resuming what they'd been doing a minute before.

“Oh Mac,” says scar, “I didn't recognize you. Have you gone on a diet? You're looking pretty good.”

“Fuck you.”

More laughter.

“Mac,” says beard, “I really like what you've done with your hair. You should put it in pigtails and we'll get you some nice pink ribbons.”

“Pretty princess.” Giant adding, in his gravely voice.

The three laughing even harder.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing.”

They did. Couldn't help but join in after a bit due to the absurdity.

“Mac,” says scar, after they'd recovered, “I'm gonna buy you a drink. You probably need it. But, in return, you've got to tell us what hell is going on. What did you get yourself mixed up in?” Signaling to the serving girl for a round.

“Will do, and thanks, I'm broke as a joke right now. Not going to drink much tonight, ain't got the money.” And at about a hundred pounds soaking wet my tolerance is likely nil. Taking a sip after the girl put down the drinks. Another new old taste to get used to. “Alright, so when I saw you guys last, on the last night of the festival, I had a job. While all the contestants were going to be fighting, I was going to swoop in and get all the festival prizes, and then get out with no one the wiser.”

“They canceled that night, though,” says beard, “but that worked out for me. They wouldn't let me change my bet over at Sam's, but with everything going tits up I ended up getting my money back.”

“Who'd you end up betting on then, who ended up winning, anyway?” Wetting my lips.

“Nah, didn't bet on anybody. They never rescheduled. It got canceled entirely.”

Letting out a low whistle. Shaker must be extremely upset about that. Very meticulous, and does not respond well to his plans getting ruined.

“That's something. Huh. Anyway, they canceled the last night because they were stupid and careless enough to let someone come by and open up all the cages for the monsters. They were running around with their heads cut off trying to fix it, with the monsters running all though the place.”

Scar and beard sharing a look.

“You know anything about that?”

“Yeah, I heard something about that,” says scar, “but until you said it right now I didn't put much stock into it.”

“Well, if you can, ask around. Because the reason for all this is because they think I did it.”

“What?” says beard. “Why?”

Downing the pint and then signaling the girl to get a water. “So it's like this. The plan was to go in the front door, but they closed it up. So I went down through the sewers, snuck past all the monsters and all of Shaker's goons, got to the treasure room, and then I actually got my hands on the treasure.

“Well, sonofabitch, they had a trap in the treasure chest. A cursed something-or-other. I was on my way out when it put out this awful alarm. Tried throwing it away, but it came right back into my hand. So now I'm running around with my head cut off, with this thing getting louder. It ends up popping my eardrums so I'm really running blind and I end up trapped in a bathroom. My backup plan to teleport out was blocked, warded. So not much I can do, I didn't feel the need to get too crazy.

“The next thing I know Shaker's giving me the third degree, saying I must have let them all out. And, I mean, I don't blame him for thinking that, either. Everything's crawling around, and then they find me making off with the grand prize. So that was that.”

“Okay,” says scar, pointing at me, “but what does that have to do with this?”

“Oh, yeah. So I tell Shaker it wasn't me that did it, because I didn't, and he wants to believe me - because I'm just that trustworthy - but after Haven he knows putting me in jail is a waste of time and he wants to run an investigation to see what actually happened. This rat fuck was the compromise. They sweet talked me about taking a vacation, and all this bullshit, and they ended up getting their little joke in at my expense. Next cycle, though, back to normal.”

“That's a shame,” says beard. “This girl's cute and we're going to have to go back to dealing with your ugly mug again, huh?”

“Mmm,” say the giant.

All of us laughing at that, mine coming out as a giggle.

“What's a shame,” says scar, “is that you got your hands on the prize and then it slipped out of your fingers.”

The giggle coming out again. “I didn't say that. Shaker may have gotten me, but not the loot. It's just waiting for me to come by and pick it up. Must be why he canceled the last day of the tournament and why they did this to me. Not enough prizes to give the competitors and they're trying to make me sweat. I'll give 'em points for creativity, but it'll take a lot more than this to throw me off my game. Anyway, I'll be back.”

Standing up definitely producing an inebriated wobble. Tipsy after one drink, a complete lightweight, but after shooting the shit my mood had measurably improved. Walking by scar and his hand reaching out try to pinch my ass, but the shield interposing, creating a loud crackle and bright flash, drawing the attention of the room and stopping him short.

“You think I came here unprepared? I know how you fucks think.”

“Can't blame a guy for trying.” Giving me a smirk. Beard and giant laughing at that, and then me joining in.

“You know the stupidest thing they did? Giving me magic. If they have half a brain they'll breathe a sigh of relief when I can't use this anymore.”