Please let me take you,' I say, looking at Fey as she gets ready to go to Lorma's house.

She's wearing my favorite dress and has her hair up in a bun. The way I like it.

'You say this every time,' she replies, turning and giving me the most beautiful smile in all the lands, kingdoms and heavens. 'I'll be fine. I'm a big girl.'

'I know. I just don't want anything to happen to you.'

'It hasn't before.'

I limp over to her and place a kiss on her ruby lips. 'I know I'm a little overprotective but that's who I am. Who I've grown to be. At least let me come get you.'

Fey rubs a speck of surrendering rouge from my mouth and replies, 'How about this? We meet at the entrance to the inner city and you can walk me back home. Like always–'

*******************************

A noise jolts me awake.

Is it another attack?

But I hear no peels from the city's bells.

It's probably the blacksmith. Or my elixirman checking up on me.

I then sit up in my bed and furrow my brows.

I don't remember coming back home. But I haven't had a good sleep in a long time, so maybe my body's just shot. Or maybe I just had a bit too much firewater. It was good.

My mind recalls the spy and traitor but it's unable to hold on to it for long. I soon close my eyes.

********************************

My heart pounds as Lorma opens the door.

'Is Fey still here?' I ask with a quiver.

Worry creeps on Lorma's face. 'She left at the usual time. You didn't see her?'

I shake my head. 'That's why I'm here. Are you sure she's not still with you?'

'You probably just missed her. She could be back home.'

'I waited and waited at the gate to the inner city, she couldn't have passed me. And I arrived too early.'

'Maybe she went for a stroll around the greenhouses and lost track of time. You know she likes it there.'

'Yes, you're probably right. I'll check.'

'I'll come with you. We can take a carriage. Let me just put something decent on.'

I don't wait. And I run and run, my leg giving out several times.

When I reach the greenhouses, I don't find her.

Maybe she is back home, waiting for me.

Heading back, I sprint past the small park where I proposed to her. It's then that I smell an aroma. Fey's perfume.

I relax. Fey's probably in there, reliving that most precious time.

I follow the smell into the park, my heart jumping with glee, wanting to gaze at her beauty as if the world was ending.

'Fey,' I call out. 'Fey.'

She's not answering.

Maybe she just left, on her way to the inner city entrance to meet me.

I turn back when I see something lying on the ground beside a tree.

'NOOOO!'

*******************************

I arouse with another start, sweat pouring down my face this time. I can't breathe. I stumble out of bed, tears beginning to fall, and rush over to the window.

Throwing it open, I inhale deeply.

It's still dark outside. It hasn't been long, a few hours at most, since the end of the celebration at the palace.

My eyes then descend on the street below, my despair instantly vanishing and my pulse quickening.

A figure stands in the shadows.

Are they looking this way? At me?

'Who's there?' I shout.

The figure doesn't answer or move.

If it's my elixirman, he would reply.

I shut the window and fumble downstairs, almost tripping on a step. I open the front door in fervour and step out, ready to confront whoever it is.

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But the figure has disappeared.

I whirl my head around, looking down both ends of the street.

Nothing.

Was it even there, I ask myself? Is my lack of sleep playing tricks on me?

Frustrated, I go inside and putter to the kitchen. Sitting down on a stool next to the sink, my thoughts go to my investigations, connected or not. The theft at the granary, the possible return of the Night Cleaver, and maybe the future sabotage of the reservoir. Even though the city's officials have planned for a deliberate disruption to the city's water supply, I should explore the lead.

I quickly dress and call for May when I'm outside, the figure not reappearing. And when she shows, I take the sheriff's carriage to the factory district in the north where the entrance to the reservoir is located.

Carved out of bedrock, and like all of the crucial infrastructure in the city, the opening is guarded by a dozen or so soldiers.

'Good evening, sheriff,' one of them says, a tired look on his mole-covered face.

'Good evening, gentlemen,' I reply. 'May I enter?'

'I'm sorry, sir,' says another soldier, his red beard ratty, 'we have orders to not let anyone down there. The tunnels have become unstable from lack of maintenance and supplies.'

Though he could be telling the truth, a suspicion grows within. Could it have been on Sir Blouf's advice that this order was given?

'I can take care of myself,' I reply before lying, 'And this is to do with an investigation ordered by the king. It's of a secret matter. We can get His Majesty if you want to ask him? Wake him from his slumber? Bring him down here?'

'No, no,' the red-bearded soldier responds, putting up his hands. 'Let's not waste the king's time. Let the sheriff through.'

The rumor of the king being violently grouchy when woken is a good card to pull out now and again. And I'm sure being who I am helped with the decision too.

I enter the tunnel and start my way towards the reservoir underneath the city, light from glowing Thandora Rocks illuminating my path. And the deeper I go, the temperature rises, causing me to sweat for the second time tonight.

The tunnels look to be in good shape but I do see several cracked wall braces.

The end feels like an eternity away, and my leg gives out several times, but I finally make it, stepping out onto a small and narrow ledge, the great expanse of the reservoir dazzling under a stalactite encrusted ceiling. It looks like another world.

And all I see is water. A lot of it. Still as a sheen of ice. If it was drying up as the vigil told me on the night of the attack, the rain we just had clearly refreshed it. It's a good sight to see.

Suddenly, I hear the crunching noise of arousing footfalls. I look over my shoulder to see a masked figure all in black rushing towards me, their hands outstretched, ready to push me off the ledge.

I dive out of the way just in time, hitting the wall of the tunnel with excruciating force. My leg spasms beyond belief.

The masked figure skids to a halt, themselves almost plummeting down to the water, and turns around. I lurch back to my feet as my assailant then brandishes a dagger.

Replying with my own display, I unsheath my sword. Then with an uncontrolling slash, I strike as hard as I can, my grip almost coming loose. But I get him.

The figure winces in pain. And as I stagger backwards from the hack, he drops his weapon and clutches his upper left arm.

Now unarmed, the dagger finding its way off of the ledge, the figure takes his chance to flee his unsuccessful attack. He barrels past me, knocking me back to the ground, and escapes up the tunnel with speed.

That's the second time in the past few days that I've been knocked on my arse.

'Come back here, you swine,' I shout at them, my voice reverberating throughout the reservoir.

Even if I had two good legs I wouldn't catch him. I get up and peer over the ledge, seeing if there's any sign of the dagger. Nothing. It must have gone into the water and down into the depths, possibly never to be seen again.

Agony grips me as I start my way back to the surface. And the very second I spring from the entrance to the reservoir, I eagerly ask as I pant like a dog on the hunt, 'Where'd they go?'

The soldiers give me confused looks as if I have lost my mind.

'Who, sheriff?' the red-bearded soldier asks.

'Didn't someone run out of here?' I stammer.

The soldiers shake their heads.

'Someone just attacked me down at the reservoir,' I continue. 'They were headed this way. Someone must have come out.'

The soldiers' bewildered demeanours turn to shock.

'Attacked by someone?' grunts the red-bearded soldier. 'But that's impossible. You were the only one down there, sheriff.'

'I haven't made it up,' I growl. 'They must be still down there.'

'You stay here, sheriff. We'll check.' And with several other soldiers right behind, the red-bearded soldier bounds down the tunnel.

I wait patiently for them with the remaining guards, keeping myself at the ready in case the fiend comes galloping out. And we hang fire for roughly an hour before the red-bearded soldier returns, nobody in his clutches.

'Nothing, Sheriff Harg. Absolutely nothing,' he puffs in exhaustion. 'Shall we get more soldiers? Do another search, sheriff?'

I shake my head.

The soldiers of this city are best served where they are. I could get my men but they're probably still sleeping, rest they need and deserve.

'The perpetrator will have to come through here eventually, unless he wants to wither away down there,' I say. 'Keep your eyes peeled.'

'Yes, sheriff.'

Traveling back home, I remember the figure I saw from my window. Could that person have been my attacker? Did they follow me to the reservoir and somehow snuck in? Could they be waiting for my return? Am I being followed now? And who was my attacker? Is this something to do with Sir Blouf and King Jabora's emissary? Are my suspicions about them correct? Could it have been the emissary himself that just attacked me? Or someone under his command?

So many questions without answers.

Annoyed, angry, dissatisfied about the night, and slightly afraid at what else could be in store for me and this city, I head to the granary. It's on my way. I need evidence. I need a proper lead. Maybe my men missed something, missed a clue.

The southern granary explodes out of the ground like a great dome of a far away place of worship. A hole in the metal roof, which the thief had made, is patched up as best as one could do.

I move to where the frayed piece of rope was found, right next to the wall of the granary, on the other side of where the guards were stationed the night of the theft.

The thief had some gall climbing up out in the open. And a question I've been asking myself ever since that night then pops back into my mind. How did the thief, after climbing back down, carry all that food through the streets without being noticed? Someone, a resident looking out of their window, a vigil, or a lawman on patrol, should have seen something. Surely.

My gaze moves up and to the roof of a three story stone dwelling beside the granary, a length not impossible to traverse if you know what you're doing. Could the thief have made some sort of rudimentary bridge made out of rope to get to the granary instead? Then crossed back over to escape, away from prying eyes?

Why didn't this cross my mind before?

I grunt in anger before looking around me, making sure my attacker isn't lurking anywhere.

Being it's still dark outside, this could be a possible waste of time, but my desire to find something eggs me on.

I find an abandoned home close by, it gutted by a fire from a wooden dragon, and enter. Carefully, yet with much difficulty, I then make it to the top of the half-eaten roof.

With the granary in my sights, I move forwards, crossing more roofs, residents fast asleep below my feet.

It's on the roof next to the granary that I find what I'm looking for. It's another piece of frayed rope.

I was right.

I pick it up, about to inspect it, when light from the stars catches something. I pocket the piece of rope and inch over, finding wedged at the bottom of the roof's chimney, a small, sparkling cubed ingot.

'That little shit,' I say, seizing the golden die.