The cloaked figure glided forward, catching the final gleams of the sun in their flowing robes. The air filled with the scent of vanilla and blackcurrant. It brought back a mixture of memories of Buckfast Wine and Mistress Arista's licorice cough syrup from the schoolhouse.

Hunter couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the peculiar aroma.

His muscles tensed, despite sensing no immediate threat. Vanilla and blackcurrant didn’t scream danger, but instincts were stubborn creatures. The figure halted a few paces away, hands rising to push back the hood. A cascade of chestnut hair framed a young woman's face, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Hunter. A smile painted her heart-shaped features.

No longer sporting a name badge, she needed no introduction. Hunter remembered exactly who she was.

Lyra Savage.

Hunter smiled. "Compliments to the chef! The tavern food you gave me as a take-away was delicious."

Lyra's hands gracefully fell to her sides. “I’ll make sure to tell her when I see her. All made in-house, even the cheese”

“I’ve never tasted anything like it.” Hunter shifted to the side; small talk in a dingy alley felt a little odd.

“She honed her craft serving the priests at the Galweigan Spiritual Sanctuary, where the recipe for Buckfast Tonic Wine originated. Our version of Buckfast is brewed and bottled in-house.”

"Impressive!"

“Not as impressive as your reputation in Lady Seraphina's Bathhouse. Have you recently been back there?” His gut told him her question was a subtle probe, one she already knew the answer to. He remembered how flirty she’d been when they met in the Tangled Mermaid. Not to mention the stink eye she threw Eunice's way.

“You’d know the answer since you’ve been stalking me.”

A sarcastic smile tugged at Lyra's lips. “Look at you, thinking you’re the dog’s bollocks just because all the girls flirt with you. Let me enlighten you, love, a pretty face and a big ‘Mickey’ don’t cut it with the likes of me. Despite what Eunice said, I know what she’s really after. You'd be a fool not to see it.”

Hunter chuckled through his nervousness, recalling his ‘close’ encounter with Eunice. Was Lyra suggesting it was all an act?

His silence prompted Lyra to spill more truths. “Just so you know, Eunice is Vassilus’ girlfriend, his go-between. She was paid to keep tabs on you and worm her way into your affections. She knows how to play men... and boys for fools, in a real hands-on way.”

Hunter flushed, glad the dim alley concealed his embarrassment. He knew the merit in Lyra’s words and recalled Eunice passing a note to Nastes, that pompous pirate who worked for Xuthos.

Was Eunice playing one city boss against the other?

That was a dangerous gamble.

Hunter tried to mask his unease with a confident grin. “I saw her antics in the tavern with Nastes. Don’t worry about me, I was onto her. Two can play the flirt game. I knew what I was doing, and—”

Lyra raised a skeptical brow before swiftly closing the distance. With a flick of her cloak, a knife materialized at Hunter's throat. Tension crackled, her honeyed smile betrayed by icy eyes. Her voice, low and edged with steel. “Ah, bless you love, but you couldn’t fool a Cyclops in a labyrinth.”

Hunter froze, the blade's sting a powerful promise that any sudden move would make his neck a not-so-permanent feature.

In a blink, the blade retreated, leaving Hunter more than a little in awe. He released the breath he held. “So, you're not trying to kill me. I figured that part out for myself.”

Feeding chi into his eyes, he focused his attention on her knife as her grip loosened on it.

“Identify.” He ensured his voice was barely a whisper.

Unique item: Crafted by a master artisan and imbued with the essence of the Shadow Flame Serpent.

Unique? Where did she get a one-of-a kind intem with distinct, special properties. Huh, I bet being a barmaid must be a part-time job.

He gestured to her weapon, still gripped loosely in her hand, as if she were about to core an apple. “Are you some kind of rogue assassin?”

Her laughter, like a playful breeze, tickled his senses. “No love, but my father would thank you for the compliment. I’m not a bounty hunter either, in case you’re wondering. Just a concerned citizen who knows there’s a festering rotten pile of powerful men ruining this city since General Eratos took over as head of House Filo.” The shadow flame knife gleamed in her tightened grip. “I’m going to change that.”

A chill slithered down Hunter's spine, fueled by the conviction in Lyra's voice. Savage by name, savage by nature?

The mysterious warning from the stranger with cat-eye glasses during their brief encounter in the tavern, flashed in Hunter’s mind. It reminded him of the warning he’d received to not go upstairs with her.

What if making powerful enemies is her favorite pastime?

Hunter couldn't decide if it was bravery or sheer madness to want to take down the city's biggest kingpins, single-handedly.

Hunter's brows snapped together. “Are you planning on pulling off that on your own, or is this back alley meet up part of your recruitment drive for vigilantes anonymous?”

“Ha! If only your mind was as smart as your mouth.” She spun the shadow flame knife in her hand. It's dark edge smoked like molten hot coals in a forge. “Or half as clever as your sister Jo…”

Hunter's heart skipped a beat. She knows who I am.

“I —”

A sleek black cat slinked out of the shadows, its bright green eyes gleaming against the midnight coat. Well-fed and regal, it reminded him of the one his sister fed from her balcony. This one strolled by as if it owned the air, ignoring them as it passed. Further down the alley it leapt onto a barrel and then melted into the shadows cast by the high wall there.

“How do you know Jo?”

Lyra playfully tapped her nose. “I could tell ya, but then I’d have to kill ya.”

Hunter couldn’t place her thick accent.

She gave a dirty laugh. “I’m just pulling your leg, love. Let’s just say I know her prick of a boss very well. He doesn’t like to shit where he eats, and I’m a loose end he doesn’t want hanging around. You’ve got enough troubles of your own, so for now, the less you know about mine, the better!”

Hunter opened his mouth to protest when he was cut off by a loud wailing, like somebody was torturing an innocent. Hunter knew exactly what it was. He’d heard it many times on Death Island. Two feral tomcats calling for the affection of a nearby female in heat.

Lyra glanced up at the high wall. "Sounds like a feline love triangle is heating up."

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Hunter pressed her with his gaze. "Look, you didn't follow me here to tell me you're some kind of vigilante and keep me dangling like a worm on a hook. I don't have time or patience for playing games. Tell me what you want, so we both can be on our merry way."

Lyra placed her free hand on the shapely curve of her hip. "So you do have a pair of balls to go with that legendary cock of yours. You need it, given the enemies you've made. Why don't you tell me where you're off to in such a hurry?" The way she asked made it seem like she already knew the answer.

Hunter squared his shoulders. "I could tell you," he paused, his mouth forming a grin. "But then I'd have to kill you."

Lyra looked at him like he'd just told her he was dating her mother, then she covered her mouth and exploded into a fit of giggles.

Above, the tomcats' shrieks and howls grew louder, no doubt furry fisticuffs flying as they challenged each other for female feline affections with the chance to be king and father the next generation of kittens.

Suddenly, a flurry came from above them, a flutter of feathers and a red and green blur plummeted to the ground beside them.

For the first time, Lyra wore a look of surprise. "Holy shit, a rooster! What the hell’s it doing here?"

Hunter raised his hands, a theatrical gesture that Lyra observed with a raised brow. Pulling some seed from his inventory, he unleashed a calming aura, reaching out to connect with the rooster. The poor bird crowed, eyes bulging as if it sensed the sweep of Hunter's aura.

A war raged in its darting eyes, torn between the instinct to flee and the overpowering need to satisfy its hungry stomach. The rooster took a step back but didn’t take flight.

With slow movements, Hunter sank to one knee, extending his palm. “Go on, help yourself. You look like you haven’t eaten since the last time I saw you.”

Hunter grinned as the calming effect of his aura took hold, and the rooster cocked its head before approaching with cautious steps. He marveled at the bird's gentle pecks, considering its size. The rooster allowed Hunter to further soothe him with gentle scratches of his wattles.

“You're a real charmer, aren’t you? The Bard of Beasts — where's your magic flute?”

Hunter rose to his feet, ready to match her sass. “In my pants.” He quickly shifted his attention back to the bird.

“Really? Well, aren't you full of surprises.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Now I’m really curious, you said you’ve met that rooster before?”

“Yeah. Briefly. If you know Xuthos, then you know his son Pheres.”

Her expression darkened with a nod.

“This rooster used to belong to Pheres. The sandal sniffer didn’t take kindly to me helping free the bird. That’s kind of how I ended up in the tavern the day we met—Pheres was too slow to keep up with me.”

Lyra stowed her weapon, her eyes narrowing with keen interest on the bird, though she kept her silence.

As sunlight faded, casting a shadow over the surroundings, Hunter cast a concerned look in Lyra’s direction. “I have somewhere I need to be by nightfall.”

“I know.” Lyra's expression grew even grimmer. “I also know where you’re going but I can’t join you, as much as I want to. That said, I can give you something useful along with the following advice.” She took a moment to focus on a storage ring on her finger, then a bottle of Buckfast Wine appeared in her hand. The label shimmered with an extra word added at the end.

“Buckfast Supernova? Thanks, but I don’t think drinking will—”

“It’s not for you, dumb-dumb. It’s for Pheres. He'll know what it means. Go find him now, give that to him, and he will show you a shortcut to Master Agathos.”

Hunter raised a brow. “I’m not going anywhere near that sandal sniffer; he’d stab me in the back before I—”

Lyra cut him off with a raised hand. “Trust me, I'm an Akeran, we pride ourselves in being brutally honest. Our clan motto is—”

“Truth and Integrity.”

Hunter bowed his head in sorrow and respect. “My parents thought very highly of the Akeran’s. House Filo never forgot the sacrifice your clan made during the war…”

Hunter recalled his parent’s deep sadness and regret that what remained of the Akera clan were forced into hiding.

“No point stirring up ghosts of the past.” Her eyes burned with vengeance like an ocean of ice on fire. “They don’t need your pity, unlike some of the living. Go find Pheres. He will help you deal with Master Agathos, whether he wants to or not.”

***

The alley fell silent after the feline skirmish ended. The rooster eagerly pecked at a second helping of bird seed and a generous amount of honey roasted acorns that Lyra had offered. Now calm and well-fed, the rooster was in a much better state than when it first arrived with feathers missing and little more than skin and bone.

Hunter doubted the scrawny bird would remain in high spirits if he took the beast along while following Lyra's suggestion to find Pheres. That asshole would want to make good on his threat to roast the rooster. The concern lining Hunter's face didn't go unnoticed.

Lyra's eyes softened while her smile grew warm. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Still clutching the bottle of Buckfast Wine with the altered label, Hunter voiced his worries. "If I go looking for Pheres right now, I can't bring that poor bird with me. I also don't want to leave it here on the streets."

"Relax, Atlas, no one asked you to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I'll take the bird back to my place; it's not far from here. Does the plucky bastard have a name?"

Hunter laughed at the description. The timid rooster was afraid of its own shadow. "I don't think so, but we could name him." He scratched his head in search of a fitting name, soon recalling a quiet scribe who used to work for his mother. "How about Harold?"

"Yeah, it's a nice name for a library mouse, but this poor sod needs something that'll strike fear in others.” She gestured to the roosters' big, sharp spurs. “Oh, I know—how about Deathblade? That's a kick-ass name!"

The rooster startled at Lyra's raised voice, losing a few more feathers.

"Great name for an assassin, but this fella hasn't got much fight in him."

Lyra gave Hunter a flat look and shook her head. "That's exactly why he needs a name that inspires fear… isn't that right, Deathblade?"

The rooster gave her a doubtful look.

Hunter looked around for inspiration, and just before stowing the Buckfast bottle, a name struck him. "How about Buck?" He gestured to the label on the bottle before it disappeared into his ring.

"How about no."

Hunter scowled. "How about we let the rooster decide? You call him your name, and I'll call him mine, and we'll see who he comes to."

Lyra gave a sharp nod and stepped back.

Hunter did the same.

The rooster's eyes darted in confusion as it emitted an almost quizzical, "Bawk-bawk?"

Leaning over with a fierce challenge, Lyra slapped her thigh and called out, "Come here, Deathblade, I've got some more honey roasted acorns with your name on them."

"Hey! No bribing allowed."

Lyra raised her chin and followed up with a firm head shake. "Never agreed to that."

"It was implied."

"Ah, would you ever go and shit! Stop complaining and call his name. You know the one that rhymes well with fuck."

Hunter ignored her jibes and patted his knees. "Hey Buck…Buck…Buckie. You want some more tasty bird seed." The bird cocked its head but didn't move even when Hunter and Lyra intensified their coaxing efforts.

Losing patience, Lyra flung her hands in the air. "You know what? I think Buckie is an alright name. Come here, Buckie, you plucky bast…eh, bird."

Hunter was glad she’d finally agreed on his name choice. He’d tired of arguing over something so small. It was time to focus on a much bigger problem.

"Now that's decided, where do I find Pheres?" Hunter knew it was a long shot, but Lyra was full of surprises.

"You'll be happy to know he's nowhere near your sister. You can thank yours truly for that." She approached Buckie, offering more treats as part peace offering, part bribe. As the rooster gobbled it up, she gently scooped him into her arms.

Luckily Lyra's place was close by. Hunter hoped that with the fading light, she wouldn't draw too much attention strolling through the streets, cradling a half-bald rooster the size of a racehound.

As they prepared to part ways, Lyra nodded over Hunter’s shoulder. “Fortunately for you, Pheres just so happens to be in the Tangled Mermaid.”

“That’s convenient.” Hunter didn’t bother to hide his sarkiness. Being from a clan that championed honesty, it frustrated him that Lyra wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

Lyra scowled. “Nothing convenient about it, you hairy ballsack. I had to move that arrogant cockbag like a pawn on a chessboard to get him where I wanted him.” She gave Buckie an affectionate pat, her smile souring as soon as she looked at Hunter. “Let's set things straight. There's a difference between lying and choosing what I can and can't tell you right now. It’s for all our safety, got it?"

“I’ve got it.” He shot her an apologetic smile before giving the rooster a farewell pat. “Thanks for looking after Buckie. I feel much better knowing he’s in such safe hands.”

The smile that graced her beautiful face told him she accepted his unspoken apology. “I’m glad to hear it and don’t worry I’ll find a way you can repay the favor.”

They parted ways outside a merchant’s store covered in ivy. “I’ve got a room upstairs with roof access. Buckie will love it.”

“When I'm done, I’ll pay you a quick visit.”

“Not a good idea. When you need me, I’ll come find you.”

Hunter’s brows rose but he knew better than to ask her to explain. “Fair enough.”

After a final goodbye he rushed off through the winding streets towards The Tangled Mermaid.