The alarm in the Highland Cask tripped just as Jon was finishing off his noodles. Kay was still busy.

They hadn’t been back since yesterday. So, for all intents and purposes, they were still ‘at the spire’. Lee notified them and put it on the main TV screen.

The orb, latched to a roof beam, dutifully tracked a hooded figure creeping into the tavern room.

Seph had told them nothing more about the dead spy-maid, presumably because there was nothing to offer, and Jon needed the down-low on local cunts urgently. Here was yet another one up in their shit. Being in Elgelica all of two days, this was not a bloody coincidence anymore.

The snooper cautiously searched the room which was basically bare save for the rift on one wall and the orb. He—the acoustics and heat map predicted male—avoided approaching the ring initially and eventually meandered with his sight up toward the sensor buoy.

Jon was only waiting for the money shot and launched the paintball onto the bare forehead and eyes. The three burst shot made sure at least one hit. The others splattered the hood and neck as the dude let out a yell and scrambled for the door. The paint was a tenacious kind and would not wash off for a while. Not that soap was an accessible commodity anyway.

No magical locks were on the doors sadly, so the man rushed out, and that was the last they saw of him.

“Lee, is either Sepha or one of her men online atm?”

“Is ‘at the moment’ really that hard to say?” carped Kay.

Lee replied. “Yeah, we got Sepha.”

Depending on interpretation, they had either ignored or answered her. Either, justified the scowl she made while sipping her green tea, while the bitter flavour appeared to calm and cleanse her disposition as she swallowed.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Jon sent her a bright smile. “Okay, ring Seph up. Maybe her informant network can track this guy.”

The ring tone buzzed for a bit before he heard Sepha clear her throat and shout all too loudly. “IT IS I, COUNCIL MEMBER SEPHA SHALEN. WHO CONTACTS ME?”

Jon involuntarily plugged his ears, and Kay grimaced in pain.

“Normal voice volume or even a whisper is fine Ms Sepha. I am so glad to see you try on the earphones so soon.”

“Ah, this must be Jon. My, you sound as if right by me, what a wonder! I was attempting to match these drab trinkets with my other jewellery. A rather futile effort it seems.”

“Place something of the colour, or metal, you want nearby the orb, and I’ll order it immediately. We can’t have m’lady cramping her devilish style now, can we? I’ll probably vary the design a bit too.”

“Quite the magnanimous enigma you are, Jon. What is it that concerns you?”

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I had a visitor. Not to worry, she’ll come to trouble you herself, sooner rather than later I suspect. Bear in mind what I mentioned about those Alphas in our meeting.”

“You mentioned next to nothing of them.”

“Exactly, just be prepared for her.”

“'Her'?” confirmed Seph.

“I’m sure you’ll hit it off like fireworks. Anyway, that’s not why I called. My room at the Cask had a break-in, nothing stolen don’t worry, but I managed to paint the perp with very hard to remove, bright blue dye.”

“Ah, you’ve marked him, I catch your meaning. My eyes shall keep watch. The message will go out to Faelyn and Nym directly. I too wish to know who stalks you. They may be connected to yesterday's... rat.”

“Thank you, Shalen-sun. Truly, thank you for everything. I mean it. Let me know what your people need, and I'll sort it.”

“That is wonderful to hear, Kel-sun. I believe Luren-sun has a draft of requests already. Be sure to receive them from her.”

Ag, fok. That was just an overture, Jon should have known better with Seph.

Kay produced said paper where she sat at the kitchen counter, still stubbornly attempting to eat soba. Her chopstick skills, being neophyte, had slowed consumption considerably. Even as he watched, noodles slid from between raised sticks much to her consternation.

“I will get on that then. Alright, goodbye, Ms Shalen.”

“Good day to you, Jon.”

Then they did that thing where no one put down, expecting the other to, and it became uncomfortable.

“You, know how to close the call, right?” asked Jon.

“No, I do not.”

“Right,” he hung up.