Panic was the fruit of a tree in full bloom, and for Lucas, it seemed like this woman had given it to him in great abundance. He swivelled his head towards Leta, wide-eyed at her response to the man. There was a heavy silence between the three of them, so heavy that he wondered if he would be crushed by it. Crushed like he had been under the bed of this place. He coughed just at the memory of it.

The man stroked his ragged beard, his belly poking out of his shirt, and looked to be deep in thought. “But wouldn’t I have heard an intruder in my house?” His stare at Leta was intense, as he awaited a response.

She just simply shook her head. “It’s quite simple to use magic to muffle the sounds of footsteps.”

Lucas recalled the shoes that she had given him, which had done exactly like that, and he narrowed his eyes at her. This rat bastard.

She continued. “I know you’re quite avoidant of magic, and as my dear friend, I can’t help but feel worried about you. What if they planted something?”

The man was unresponsive, his expression unchanging. She looked downwards, seemingly dejected. “Sorry… I know I shouldn’t be intruding on other people’s business…”

To her dismay, he responded with a sympathetic smile. “Oh don’t be. I just thought you didn’t think of me as a friend.”

She enthusiastically replied, “Oh, no, of course, you’re my friend! Those rounds we had at the bar were great, though I really didn’t expect you to hold your liquor so well… haha.”

He laughed cordially and slapped his belly. “Of course! I have years of experience, but I have to say, for an amateur such as yourself you did well. By all means, come in.” He moved to the side, letting her walk into his house. Lucas followed close behind her, but he was stopped by the man just before he entered.

The man leaned forward, one of his eyebrows raised. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

Lucas laughed nervously and fidgeted with his fingers. “Well…” He trailed off and looked at Leta, but she just shrugged. “It’s a large town.”

“I’m sure I would have seen you somewhere though.” The man pondered for a second but then laughed. “Ah, must be all the alcohol, always makes me forgetful.” He held out his hand. “I’m Pierre.”

Lucas hesitantly grabbed his hand and had his arm violently shaken up and down. “Lucas.”

“Nice to meet you,” Pierre responded, moving out of the way.

The inside of Pierre’s house was nothing new to Lucas, but nonetheless, he pretended to act curious. He saw that the papers that were messily arranged around the table were now in a neat stack. The house was quite plain and the inside had cracked, decaying walls.

Leta was walking round and about the house, checking all the nooks and crannies. Her facade was quite convincing, examining the walls with incredible conviction on her face. Lucas leaned against a wall as he waited.

Pierre joined him and they both stared at Leta, who was now rummaging through drawers. Lucas felt a sense of guilt wash over him as the man looked on with a worried expression. This was the first townsperson who had treated him with a shred of sincerity.

The calming silence between the two was rudely interrupted by Leta calling out, “I think I found something.” She was in the bedroom, and Lucas knew exactly what she was referring to.

She walked out, holding the stone between her fingers, which looked just as unremarkable as it did back then when Lucas first took it out of the black box. She presented it to Pierre, who inspected it closely.

“What does it do?” He asked.

“I’m pretty sure it drains the energy of people nearby.” She replied with a serious expression. “It’s a good thing that I checked otherwise who knows what would’ve happened.”

Pierre put a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. He had a dejected expression and the wrinkles on his face deepened.

“Who could’ve done this?” He asked, “I know I’m not the most agreeable sometimes but really…”

Leta shook her head sympathetically, which caused Pierre to smile in gratitude. His forlorn expression had disappeared as he lumbered over to Leta, scooping her up in a great hug, “But hey, I’m glad you found it before things could get worse.”

Leta was clearly taken by surprise by the hug, and she flinched in response to it, causing Pierre immediately let go.

“Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said.

“It’s f-fine” She replied, forcing a smile.

Although unseen to Pierre, Lucas could tell that her ears were turning red, causing him to grin. The impenetrable iron wall, Leta, was defeated by a hug from a great, big oaf.

“Say, why don’t we go have another drink at the tavern, on me. I think it’s about time for round two.” Pierre beamed at her.

“Ah… sure then, yeah,” Leta responded.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Meet you there before sunset? Oh and Lucas you should come along as well,” he winked, “Maybe you’ll finally be the person to outdrink me”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” she mumbled as she briskly walked out, dragging Lucas behind her. Just before the door slammed shut behind them, she turned around and said “See you there,” after which the door closed and a mountain of dust from the support beams dislodged straight onto them.

Lucas sneezed as he attempted to brush the dust out of his hair and shoulders. It was already late evening, his shadows elongated and the sunlight diminishing. They would be seeing Pierre again very soon, then.

He glanced at Leta, who had just chucked the rock in her hand onto the grass.

“Why did you have me deliver that, then?” He asked.

She had her hand up to the sun, squinting through it. She continued walking and Lucas leaned in, expecting her to say something, but the only sound he heard was the crunching of gravel and small pieces of rock beneath their feet.

He sighed and began to kick a pebble that was lying on the side of the street. Lucas had done nothing but be dragged around here and there. He was like some balloon animal that Leta had purchased on a whim, and now was toting around everywhere. He was bored out of his mind, and his irritation only grew worse by the minute. They were heading to a tavern. He could still very clearly remember the last time he drank alcohol. Lots of screaming, chaos and a hangover that made him want to curl up and stop existing.

Needless to say, it was a disaster and he was not inclined to try it again.

After a long while, when the sun had mostly set and the streets were beginning to quiet down, they walked past a road with a multitude of buildings. A bakery on one side, a florist on the other, just regular shops. Finally, they passed by a window and inside were a multitude of people, drinking, bantering and laughing. Above them was a hanging sign with a beer mug and the words “The Grey Angel” carved around it.

A small bell rang as Leta pushed open the door, and the atmosphere immediately became stuffy and noisy. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and alcohol, which prompted Lucas to cover his mouth and nose with his sleeve. A few people stared at them as they walked in, but returned to their conversations shortly afterwards.

To his surprise, Pierre was already hunched over at the bar, wooden mug in hand. Leta pulled out the seat on the right of him and sat down, and Lucas took the seat on his left.

“You guys came!” He said, enthusiastically. It was clear that he already had a few drinks prior to their arrival, as his breath reeked of alcohol. He waved at the bartender, who was wiping the inside of a mug. “Two glasses of golden ale!”

Pierre leaned over to Lucas. “What do you prefer?”

“Uh… I’ll just have water,” he stammered.

“Shame.” Pierre snorted and called out again to the bartender, “And a glass of water for this lad here.”

The bartender slid the drinks over to them and Lucas nodded in response. He kept his head down and sipped his water, occasionally listening to snippets of Pierre’s and Leta’s conversation. Most of it was just Pierre asking her generic questions and her responding dryly with a few words. One question he asked, however, caught Lucas’ attention.

“So, who’s Lucas to you? Your brother? Cousin?” He added with a teasing tone, “Your boyfriend?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A female with crimson hair had walked up to the bar and was now standing behind Pierre. “He’s a companion,” she spat out.

Pierre laughed. “No, no, surely not. Right, Leta?”

The female cut in, “Can’t you see his pink-coloured hair, Pierre? It’s exactly the same as hers,” she gestured to Leta.

“No, that’s a coincidence. I mean it can happen, y’know?” Pierre replied uneasily.

“A candidate just happens to have someone next to them with the same coloured hair, and that’s not their companion?” She had an aggressive edge to her voice, “You tell me, what are the chances of that, huh?”

“Tiaru you know I’ve never been good at math.” Pierre’s grip on his mug tightened and his hand was shaking. “Leta, tell me this isn’t true.”

Leta said nothing in response, instead just staring into her untouched mug of golden ale.

Pierre slammed the table and yelled at her, “TELL ME THIS ISN’T TRUE, LETA.”

Still, she had her head down and was unresponsive. Pierre had a look of shock, mixed in with disappointment as he observed her reaction. “You promised me… you promised all of us that you wouldn’t…”

The crimson-haired lady, Tiaru, gripped Leta’s shoulder tightly. “Nothing to say for yourself, kid?” she said with a husky voice. She pulled a dagger out of its sheath and held it to her neck. “Not even if I do this?”

Finally, Leta looked up and stared straight at Tiaru. Her ice-blue eyes were aloof and she had a lifeless smile, but still, she said nothing.

Tiaru chuckled, “Alright then, you asked for it,” before she lunged towards her. A bright, pink flash erupted from Leta, which engulfed the room and blinded Lucas, as well as everyone else in it.

Lucas jumped out of his seat and moved back, blinking a few times to clear his vision. From what he could see, Tiaru and Leta were engaged in a close combat fight, Leta nimbly dodging out of the way of Tiaru’s wild slashes. The bartender was nowhere to be found as the drinks on the bar were knocked out of the way and people scrambled to the sides. They roared and cheered Tiaru’s name as she fought with Leta.

One of Tiaru’s slashes landed and sliced through Leta’s cheek, causing blood to drip down. Leta brought one hand up, shielded by a flowing river of pink light which blocked the onslaught of attacks. Then, whilst Tiaru had just finished the movement of her slash, Leta slammed the shield into her causing her to stumble backwards into a table. A flood of pink light was discharged from Leta’s hands, which weaved its way through the air between them and wrapped itself around Tiaru’s hands.

Tiaru winced and dropped her dagger, and Lucas noticed that burn marks had appeared over her wrists, palms, and fingers. She bunched her fists into a ball and lunged at Leta, slamming her into a wall. She aimed a punch at Leta’s head, but Leta spat in her face, which then exploded into a pink firework, blinding Tiaru.

Leta slipped out of Tiaru’s hold and began to run towards the exit of the tavern, but a bystander grabbed onto her and gave her a crooked smile, “Don’t think ye goin’ nowhere, missy,” to which she shoved him aside and grabbed the handle of the door. To her dismay, she tried to open it and found it was locked. She looked around wildly, at Pierre, at the recovering Tiaru, at the people who were booing her and then at Lucas.

She grabbed Lucas, forcing him into a chokehold and held her index finger to his left temple. “If you guys try anything else, I’ll kill him,” she yelled.

Lucas felt the adrenaline rush into him and he prepared to elbow her, but she whispered in his ear, “That goes for you as well,” digging her finger harder into his skull.

“Let me out, or-”

“You’ll kill him?” Another woman had emerged from the back door, with the bartender in front of her. She smirked. “That’s a funny joke.”