The quality of weather is often a poor indicator of the quality of one's day. Love is to be found in thunderstorms and death in sunshine, but today, the cloud cover contoured to the shape of Kir’s mood. In one day, more arbitrary pain had been inflicted on him than it had in four years of living in isolation.

Amber understood why he chose to live the way that he did, but that didn’t stop her from occasionally posing some questions. Though one could acknowledge the difficulty in empathising with such a way of life. If Amber ever asked him why once more, he knew with complete certainty that this day would be the quintessential example of why he never went outside.

Kir soon once again walked the cobbled roads of Hallowvale, the vibrant street corners nothing but muffled noise as a backdrop to his thoughts. It was difficult to tell if it was a consequence of his mood or something more corporeal but it seemed as if the atmosphere was noticeably more dreary. The usually bustling nightlife now seemed more withdrawn. What few street performers still remained had barely a bus fair in their collection tins, the booming coming from clubs and bars was no longer accompanied with the hoots and hollers of the inebriate masses. During past nights Kir despised the wanton pandemonium but now they failed to serve as at least a distraction from the pervasive rumination.

The nebulous change in atmosphere was more or less solidified as Kir came to the usually gently lit Desert Jewel, now illuminated with harsh, sterile lighting sconces. Through the windows it was simple to find that the building was more or less uninhabited. Even after making an unannounced entrance, the sparse cleaning staff paid him no mind and opted to continue seeing to the poor state of the interior. It seemed a veritable battle occurred inside, blood splatters decorated the walls and there were maybe two pieces of furniture still partially intact.

Kir approached one of the staff, horrified by what occurred, but they simply gestured to the backroom, apparently exhausted with the volume of visitors. It took some resolution but Kir eventually opened the door to the backroom, happy to find it pleasantly unaffected by the apparent commotion that occurred outside. The tables were still artfully arranged and the floors meticulously cleaned. Though it was difficult to be sure as the only light came from a lone candle sat on the far table. A hunched figure sat staring vacantly at the candle flame, unperturbed by Kir’s intrusion. Sirani, while not large in stature, often held an imposing figure. The confidence of a man who knew his place in the world with the comfort of knowing anyone who threatened it could be removed in mere moments.

Kir approached him, though it did little to draw Sirani’s attention. The man was never one to stand on formalities, but he did enjoy the pleasantries. On the table two glasses were set, a bottle of fine spirits between them. It was Dwarven custom to always set a glass for a visitor, that way they would never truly be drinking alone. With some reticence Kir refilled Sirani’s glass then poured some for himself. To him alcohol was never really something he had considered, but at least for now he swallowed the burning liquid and turned to Sirani.

“I need help”

Sirani’s gaze slowly turned to Kir and then down to the glass, upending it in one smooth motion.

“I’m in no position to give it”.

“I can pay”.

Sirani attempted a glare, but the fire once held in his eyes was extinguished, leaving a hollow stare. Kir continued.

“My friend, a crowned, she’s OD’d on Pixie Dust, she's dying”

“And what the hell do you want me to do about it?” Sirani snapped, though the response held no strength to it.

“I was hoping you knew someone, this can’t be the first time something like this has happened”.

Sirani sighed deeply.

“I did, but she was taken”.

Kir’s ears perked up and a small spark of hope lit in his chest.

“Who? Who was taken?” Kir now asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“My daughter, Lyra, my sweet girl” Sirani began to choke up slightly, while Kir’s face turned severe.

To those at least slightly ingrained in the criminal underworld, his name carried weight. A man famous for being someone not to be taken lightly. But now, in this moment as the facade fell apart, it was revealed who he really was, a balding middle-aged man desperate for help. A shell of his former self.

“And the ring I made for her? Is it working?”

Sirani shook his head and rummaged through his pockets, soon presenting an ornate ring.

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“She must have figured out what it was for, always such a smart girl, went to school and started residency without my connections”

A realisation crossed his mind but he shoved deep to the back for the moment.

“Who took her?”

Sirani’s brow furrowed.

“I thought you would’ve figured it out, I was telling you about him at the party”

Kir let out an awkward giggle, inappropriate for the atmosphere but Sirani didn’t seem to care, choosing to recount their conversation.

“Sable Crowley was released from prison not two weeks ago”

The name definitely rang a bell, it didn’t carry much notice with it, but Kir had heard it in passing.

“And?” Kir asked, waiting for Sirani to continue. Sirani let loose another sigh, pouring them both another drink.

“I know you don’t get out much but Christ boy. From what I know he’s one of your ilk, but let's just say a bit more capable.” Sirani brought the glass up to his mouth and waited for Kir to follow suit.

Again with a deal of hesitation, Kir capitulated, though this time he found it a bit easier.

“With those skills, he’s been amassing power, gathering low level gangs and street thugs, making them organised. He came here last night, wanted me to pledge loyalty. I said no”

Sirani poured another drink Kir but didn’t bother with the glass for himself, instead opting for the bottle.

“When I said no, we fought, he won. Took my daughter, saying it might help me think it over” Sirani stared off into the distance, likely remembering the events of the previous night.

“Half my best men are being buried, and that piece of shit marrying my daughter is upstairs playing cards”.

Kir watched silently, as this husk spat and gesticulated, expressing his disgust and shifting from anger to misery. It was difficult to feel much for such a man, both parties knew full well he had committed such acts and worse, and now that the tables had turned he was a mess of self-pity and helplessness. Kir watched blankly, trying to calculate his next step. If Lyra was his best option then he would need to find her, rescue her somehow and take her to Amber as soon as possible.

“Do you know where I might be able to start looking?”

Sirani thought for a moment.

“His men have been seen having drink at an old school tavern near the Docks entrance to Ashbright Passage, it had a weird name”

Sirani thought for a moment

“The Otters….Nap?”

Not very surprised that he hadn’t heard of it, Kir let out another uncomfortable laugh and pushed up his glasses.

“Um, how do I get there?”

Sirani paused then took another swig from his bottle.

“The warrior will take you, she's upstairs” Sirani paused for a moment before looking up to the ceiling “I don’t know how you think you’re gonna do this, he destroyed my operation, I don’t have enough men to even try and get her back”.

Kir thought for a moment, beyond what he needed Sirani’s daughter for he now felt partially responsible. Even if the divination magic wouldn’t be any help in rescuing Lyra, he supposed it would still bring peace of mind to those affected. He found some solace in the hope that she would’ve figured it out eventually but it was putting salve on a tumor.

Sirani raised the bottle, and Kir followed suit with his glass.

“If you somehow succeed, you’ll never have to work another day in your life”.

Kir smiled at this, there wasn’t much hope, but if he was still alive when this was all over, he wouldn’t talk to another human for at least a year.

Finishing what remained in the glass Kir stood up, stumbling slightly, his legs must have fallen asleep. He left the room and the light of the main room assaulted his senses. It was odd he was having a bit of trouble focusing his vision, was he really that tired? For the moment he had to go petition Mi, he needed help after all.

He made his way up the stairs, holding on the hand rail, for some reason his balance was slightly off. There was only a single door so Kir assumed that was the right place and entered without a knock.

Within was a pleasantly lit room with four men sitting relaxed around a table. They turned their attention to the new party but returned their focus to the cards strewn about as Kir made his way over to Mi. She stood in the corner, arms crossed, a pointed eye at Imon who was now chortling at a joke made by one of the other well clothed gentlemen. Kir hadn’t heard the joke but it must have been a real gutbuster judging by the strength of his laughter.

Kir faced Mi as she turned her head to the scrawny man approaching her.

“At least she put out the night before, I thought it was never gonna happen” Imon shouted out, still in stitches, standing up to grab a bottle of liquor from the other side of the table.

This sent the other three into fits of childish giggles but made Mi look as if she was going to burst a vein. Kir didn’t know any of these people well, but that seemed in poor taste. For whatever reason he felt slightly confident in that moment.

“Yeah and...” Imon’s hysterical joke was interrupted as the chair that he hadn’t moved was mysteriously a couple of feet further back then he remembered, sending him toppling down, getting drenched in the contents of the now broken bottle. The other three men stood to check on his condition, one struggling to hold back an audible bout of schadenfreude.

Imon scrambled to his feet, quickly combing his hair down to its previously well kept state. He turned with an anger in his eyes to Kir, now nonchalantly whistling and checking the watch that he didn’t have. The now incensed individual went to approach and scold this seemingly uninvolved party but withdrew following a strong glare from Mi. While she had been sent to guard him, there was only so much patience she could be expected to have. And for the time being it was likely that Sirani would look the other way. The men returned to their game as if nothing had happened and Mi turned his attention back to Kir.

“What is it that you want demon-child?”

”I need your help, we’re going to find Lyra”