Humming a jolly tune, Nessa sat atop the roof of a shop, her legs dangling over the edge as she peered down at the alley below. The scent of damp stone mixed with refuse wafted upward, but she paid it no mind. Brick walls, weathered and overgrown with creeping vines, stretched upward on either side of the narrow passage. The alley was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of rats and bugs perched among the vines. It was the perfect hiding spot—out of sight, unassuming, and easy to overlook.

Nessa played with a small pendant in her hands, rolling it over her fingers as her eyes roamed the alley. There was still no sign of her target. She'd been waiting here for nearly an hour now, bored out of her mind. A close and trustworthy informant told her that a certain scoundrel acting suspiciously as of late would pass through the alley at this time—and if they didn't, then they had already caught wind of her presence and were making a hasty retreat.

"Come to me, Lithero."

Two seconds had passed before a green wisp formed before her eyes. Lithero, the fairy with emerald hair, appeared, stretching as his delicate wings fluttered in an attempt to awaken. He looked up at her with sleepy eyes.

"Why the late summons?" Lithero muttered, surveying his environment.

Nessa smiled apologetically. "Sorry about this, Lithy, but I need your help with something important."

Lithero frowned. "Why not invite Salph instead? Unlike me, she prefers the night life while I prefer the day."

"What a good idea, Lithy! Two spirits are better than one, after all. Come to me, Salph."

A white wisp, rather than a green one, materialized, followed by the emergence of a fairy with platinum hair and an ankle-length gown. Salph blinked, looking around slowly, her eyes barely open.

"I am ready to be of service to you, Master Nessa," said Salph.

Nessa sighed. "Sal, I told you and Lithy hundreds of times to stop calling me that. Formalities are such a bother. Anyhow, I've got a task for you, and you can choose whether to accept or decline."

"I will accept without fail," Salph replied. "What task shall I complete for you?"

“Spread out,” she instructed. “I'm looking for a scraggly bearded man with a scar running down his left eye. He also walks with a limp—shouldn't be too hard to find him. Report back to me as soon as you find him. Cloak yourselves with the mana so that you aren't found out."

The two fairies nodded and zipped off in different directions, their faint trails of light vanishing into the shadows. Nessa leaned back, lying flat on her backside as she kept humming, her tune shifting to a quicker, more upbeat rhythm.

The minutes crept by, stretching into what felt like hours. She glanced at the pendant in her hand, its smooth silver surface catching the faint moonlight. It was an unassuming trinket to most, but to her, it was one of the most important possessions she had.

Nessa clicked it open, and in it was a scrap of paper. Scrawled on its surface were the words 'May Nes Live Happy', separately handwritten by her mother and father. They thought it would be a fun idea to write words of encouragement for their only child, given to her after being inducted as a royal knight. To her, however, it was more than that—it was a reminder that she only made it this far with their sacrifices and support despite being raised in the trash heap of a city, Naula—where she was at currently.

With a heavy sigh, she shut the locket. "I would love to pay them a visit, but I have knightly duties to attend to. They'll forgive me for not dropping by."

A sudden burst of light zipped into her vision, startling her. Salph returned, his wings fluttering like leaves caught in a strong wind.

“I have found him,” Salph declared. “He was holed up in a tavern three streets over and has finished drinking himself almost to death. The man should be making his way down here any minute now. Do humans really find alcohol that tasty?"

"To many, yes. Personally, I despise the taste and the headaches that come after. Have you ever woken up with a headache so bad that you thought your skull was going to crack in two?" Nessa caught herself and shook her head. "Nevermind, forget what I said. Great job, Sal. Once this is all done, I'll feed you some nectar."

Nessa stroked a finger along Salph's head, who nodded at the gesture. "Also, Lithero is keeping an eye on the target. If he were to move elsewhere, we would know immediately."

“Well done, Sal,” Nessa said, her voice warm. “You guys are my saving grace tonight.”

Salph’s delicate face softened further as she clasped her tiny hands together. “Serving you is all the reward I need, but nectar is always welcome.”

Nessa chuckled softly, slipping the locket back into her storage device. “I’ll make it the sweetest we’ve got.”

The alley fell quiet again, save for the distant murmur of tavern-goers spilling into the streets. Nessa crouched, her eyes trained on the narrow path ahead, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her runic weapon. The target would emerge soon, and she needed to be ready.

“What’s the plan once he shows?” Salph asked, her silvery voice breaking the silence.

“Simple,” Nessa replied, her tone cool and measured. “I’ll tail him for a while, see where he’s heading. If he’s meeting someone, I’ll eavesdrop. If not…” She glanced at Salph, a flicker of determination in her eyes. “We’ll corner him and get the answers we need.”

“And if he resists?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Then he’ll learn firsthand why His Majesty places his utmost trust in royal knights,” Nessa said, her voice carrying a steely edge.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. Nessa’s ears strained for any sound that would signal the target’s approach. Finally, footsteps echoed faintly down the alley, uneven and shuffling. Nessa stood up, making no sound as she leapt toward the nearest building, quiet as a cat.

The figure stumbled into view—a man fitting Salph’s description perfectly. His unkempt beard hung like a tangle of thorns, and the scar running down his left eye gleamed under the faint light of the moon. He clutched a bottle in one hand, swaying slightly as he made his way through the streets.

From her perch on Nessa’s shoulder, Salph whispered, “That’s him. He reeks of alcohol and misery.”

Nessa suppressed a wry smile. “Stay close, but don’t let him see you.”

The man ambled forward, muttering under his breath. Nessa followed at a careful distance, her footsteps silent against the cracked cobblestone. Salph flitted ahead, her soft glow vanishing as she cloaked herself in mana.

They entered the busier street of Naula. Residents walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, their clothes as dull as the buildings that surrounded them. The only people in the city who could afford a brighter wardrobe were the merchants and nobles, and even those people rarely did business in Naula, and for good reason too.

Ahead of her, the man stumbled and nearly toppled, catching himself on the edge of a market stall. The vendor—a thin, hunched woman with suspicious eyes—snatched her wares back with a hiss. “Watch yourself, drunkard,” she snapped, her hand darting to a knife hidden beneath her counter. The man muttered something unintelligible and staggered on, his bottle swinging precariously in his grip.

Nessa kept her distance, her hood pulled low over her face. This time, she wore a long cloak that covered her uniform. It would be troublesome if someone were to take a peek at her, but this wasn't the first time she'd had to conceal herself.

A royal knight's uniform was recognizable at a glance, and recognition would only complicate matters in a city like Naula. Here, the sight of a royal knight could spark unwanted attention—or outright hostility. The last thing she wanted was everyone in the city aware of the presence of a royal knight. Everything she had worked for would crumble, and the opportunity window would be shut.

The man ahead of her stumbled again, nearly colliding with a passing merchant pushing a rickety cart stacked with wooden crates. The merchant scowled but kept moving, muttering under his breath. Nessa took a moment to adjust her hood, ensuring her face remained obscured. The streets were growing narrower now, the air thick with the mingling smells of candles and rotting refuse.

Turning a few more corners, the few people who walked these streets kept their heads down, their faces gaunt and weary. A trio of men lingered near a corner, their conversation hushed but their glances sharp and calculating. One of them flicked a knife open and closed in a rhythm that seemed almost hypnotic. When Nessa passed, they gave her a quick glance before turning their attention back to their conversation.

Her quarry, oblivious to her presence, turned abruptly down a side street. Nessa hesitated for a heartbeat before following, her movements fluid and silent. The street was even darker here, devoid of lamps, and the faint hum of distant voices was replaced by an eerie quiet. The man’s swaying figure became her sole focus as she trailed him deeper into the labyrinth of Naula’s underbelly.

The target came to a halt outside a decrepit building with a sagging roof and boarded windows. Cobwebs clung to its sides like vines, and the faint outline of what used to be a sign hung loosely on its iron post. A broken lantern hung above it, barely providing enough light to see by.

Fishing into his pockets, the man fumbled with some keys and dropped it onto the street. He cursed, his words slurred, as he bent to pick it up. Standing, the key clicked into its lock, and with some difficulty, he turned the knob and stumbled inside without a glance back.

"This must be his residence," Nessa said.

Every house in Naula was cramped, their walls almost touching. There was enough room for alleys to be formed, and some space out back to pile refuse or conduct less-than-legal dealings under the cover of shadows. Nessa glanced around, noting the darkened windows of the neighboring houses. Curtains were drawn tight, and not a single candle burned in any window.

She crouched low, the folds of her cloak pooling around her, and crept closer to the building. The broken lantern above the door flickered weakly, its light casting a sickly yellow glow over the peeling paint and rotted wood. The cobblestones beneath her boots were slick with dampness, while the scent of mildew filled her nose.

“This does not look like much of a residence,” Salph murmured as she materialized briefly beside Nessa, her glow subdued.

“True,” Nessa replied, her voice barely audible. “But appearances in Naula are always deceiving. Keep watch on the street. I’ll take a closer look.”

Salph nodded and zipped into the shadows, her tiny form nearly invisible against the darkness. Nessa edged toward the side of the building, keeping her movements deliberate and quiet. The windows, though sealed with shutters, revealed faint internal light through the gaps in the boards. She pressed her ear to the wall, straining to hear any conversation inside.

Muffled voices reached her, indistinct but heated. The tone carried a sense of urgency, and occasionally, the scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor broke the rhythm of their words. Nessa frowned. This wasn’t the behavior of a man coming home drunk. Something was being prepared, and it wasn’t the kind of activity she could ignore.

A soft whistle from above caught her attention. Lithero perched on the building’s sagging roof, his green wings glowing faintly as he pointed toward the back of the structure.

“There’s a rear entrance,” he whispered, his voice carried to her by the wind. “Unlocked. Seems they didn’t expect visitors.”

Nessa gave a quick nod and circled around to the rear of the building. The alley behind it was narrow, choked with broken crates and glass shards. The rear door was plain and unremarkable, but as Lithero had said, it hung slightly ajar. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring the alley was clear, then slipped through the door, Lithero right beside her.

The interior was just as shoddy as the exterior. Broken furniture lay scattered across the room—a toppled chair, a table with one leg propped up by a stack of warped books. Dust coated every surface, disturbed only by a trail of smeared footprints leading deeper into the house.

Nessa crouched low, her rapier drawn but held close to her side. Her eyes scanned the room, noting every potential hiding place and point of escape. Lithero hovered near her shoulder, his glow dimmed to match the shadows.

“Looks abandoned,” he murmured. “You sure he lives here?”

“Maybe ‘live’ is a strong word,” Nessa replied quietly, scratching her nose. "Let's figure this out before I sneeze up a storm."

She followed the trail of footprints cautiously, her boots making no sound against the creaking wooden floor. The path led her through a narrow hallway cluttered with discarded belongings—broken crockery, a moth-eaten coat hanging askew on a peg, and a few empty bottles scattered haphazardly.

At the end of the hallway, the footprints stopped abruptly. A doorway yawned open, its frame crooked and splintered. Beyond that point, a staircase led down into the darkness.

“A cellar,” Nessa muttered. “That’s convenient.”

Nessa crept down the stairs. The darkness thickened as she went; the cellar walls were rough stone, cold and damp to the touch. Although faint, the sound of movement echoed from below—a soft rustling, followed by a dull clink. More clinking was heard, closer now, and Nessa paused, her face darkening. She picked up the pace, forgoing her attempt at stealth as she rushed to the scene.

Nessa recognized that sound anywhere—the rattling of chains.