Two days later, in a modest room in the palace, Boyd bowed.

"Rise. ", said the princess.

Cunning sod must be up to his neck.

Boyd forced all expression from his face. And then rose.

The princess sat in a raised black leather armchair. Behind her and to her left stood Minister Firson. Further to the left, an elderly scribe poised over a small desk flush with the wall. A tapestry covered the entire back wall. She was supported by three identical silk cushions. Her feet were some distance from the carpet. The cushions were pink with white frills.

"Sir Whitetip, what have you to report?", she said. Her face, too, was expressionless. Boyd glanced at the minister, but the man was stiff as a board. Even his eyes were motionless.

Hah. Alright, minister. I s'pose it won't hurt.

Boyd straightened his back. "Your Highness, I'm sorry to say that all three hundred ingots taken from the warehouse are no doubt on their way to the west isles. Its gone, as are the culprits. "

The princess pursed her lips. "What more do you know?"

The truth was mundane. A merchant had sold his possessions for a brig, which left three days later. He had a wife, four daughters and a declining income. If gossip were to be believed, she was pregnant again.

How will I spin this?

"Three days ago a merchant purchased a sleek, two masted craft. ", Boyd began, his voice a little lower than before.

A common brig.

"In addition, he was seen entering an inn that same night. ", he continued.

With his wife and daughters.

"Which inn?", the princess responded quickly.

"The ahh... I'm afraid it isn't appropriate to tell someone of your age. That is, I mean, His Majesty may not approve.", he mock stammered.

I've got to take the kids the next time we're all here. Those lamb ribs in black sauce are too good.

"Father has entrusted me with this. Are you questioning his judgement?", she said.

There we go. Amazing she kept the irritation out of her tone.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"No, Your Highness. Far be it from me to do such a thing. Why, if I-", he continued.

"Tell me.", she said as she clutched the chair. 

There it is. 

Minister Firson was smiling now, safe from her line of sight.

Boyd put on a frown. "The Lizard's Nook. Men of all occupations congregate there. "

But mostly craftsmen.

He continued, "Its situated in the lower district, not far from the docks. "

An equal distance to the open markets. Or the "Cherry Circle" as some say.

She gulped. "Do you think they are corsairs?".

Boyd rubbed his beard. "I couldn't say. But he took his wife and daughters along. "

She swivelled in place. The minister didn't have time to react.

"You, you cad!", Abby formed a globs of ice in her fists.

Got 'im!

Boyd handed his written report to the scribe, who nodded and tucked it away.

Boyd sighed.

Back to it.

* * *

Gatrie of Crystalspire Caverns was a dwalf aching in his bones.

In his youth, he'd wandered the lands with his two toolbelts strapped crossways about his chest and his swag on his back. He'd had a rather large felt hat that served double duty as shade and shelter, which he'd eventually traded for a pipe now nestled between his teeth.

He took a puff as he tapped away his moniker on the crossguard of the first blade. His hand ached as he fused mana through the chisel.

I'll test it once I'm done.

It was a familiar pattern. He had designed the rune years ago in after he'd reworked the shine enchantment and seen in its structure some similarity to the "este" in "Jester". And so he made the rune into a word. He'd thought he was a genius until a merchant girl showed him her elven dagger. It had "Glennellis o' Lusse" formed of three separate enchantments.

All that for a sad melody. Elves.

He'd tried to trade for it of course but she wasn't willing to part with it. In the end he'd paid for her meal and she allowed him copy the runes. 

Lets see now.

He leafed though the notes he had made earlier, and slowly worked out the new rune. It would be a rather more advanced enchantment than Shine. He had taken some patterns from Concealmeent and Void Flare, working the new rune into the form "Whitetip".

Hmm. Too rigid around the second join.

To put it simply it would draw in the light that "Jester" emitted and feed the mana back into the runes along the blade. He was excited to see the effect. Assuming he didn't make any mistakes, the mana draw would be negligible compared to the primary enchantment.

He stopped when he heard a voice in the street below. It was a dead end alley with nothing but some rotted wooden crates and a manhole into the sewers.

Gatrie dragged his stool over by the window and peered down.

A man was advancing on a young girl who held jagged bit of wood in one hand.

Gatrie grumbled and and looked at the mallet in his hands.

Been awhile.

He couldn't hear what the man was saying, but the girl was tensing up.

There y'are. Steady now. 

Gatrie threw. The mallet head struck the man across the shoulder. The man pulled out a knife from his coat and turned to the alley entrance. The girl lunged at him. She rammed the bit of wood into his neck. Twice. Then when she couldn't get it out, she grabbed his mallet and set to breaking the man's ribs.

Never can pick 'em.

He waited until she was done before yelling, "Would you mind tossing it back up?".

She dropped it and ran.

Young people these days.