Above the soldier's head, delicate script shimmered into view

> A soldier stews with a fiery ire,

> His heart consumed by a burning desire.

> With prejudice sharp and a vengeful jig,

> He dreams to destroy the golden fat pig.

As the trio of soldiers settled themselves among the tavern's patrons, their stern faces momentarily softened by the allure of music, Jamie's lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile.

Between songs, Jamie called over the serving maids, ensuring he never summoned the same one twice. With each beckoning gesture, he ordered rounds of wine for the soldiers—each stronger than the last. The waitresses, familiar with his charm and generous tips, obliged without question. Goblets brimming with rich reds and potent spirits found their way to the soldiers' table, offered with coy smiles and a touch of flirtation.

The soldiers, awaiting Bones—the tavern's burly proprietor—to prepare the satchel heavy with coins, eagerly accepted the wine. Unaware of Jamie's intent, they drank heartily, the harsh lines of their faces softening as the alcohol warmed their body.

Time slipped by, the hour growing late as Jamie's performance's final notes reverberated. The tavern erupted in applause, patrons cheering and clinking mugs in appreciation. Jamie took a gracious bow, his gaze flickering momentarily toward the soldiers. They were deep in their cups now, laughter spilling from their lips as they leaned heavily against the sticky wooden table.

At last, Bones appeared from the back room, his expression sour as he handed over the bulging satchel of coins. Though visibly inebriated, the soldiers attempted to straighten themselves, grasping at shreds of authority. Rising unsteadily to their feet, they accepted the payment with sneering disdain.

Even in their drunken state, they couldn't conceal their contempt for the establishment. Their eyes swept over the tavern's patrons—miners, sailors, and ordinary folk—whom they seemed to regard as little more than vermin. Their lips curled in scorn, a silent proclamation of their perceived superiority.

Clutching the satchel, the trio staggered toward the door. The lead soldier barked a slurred command, and they pushed past a cluster of patrons, who quickly moved aside to avoid confrontation. Jamie watched them depart, lingering by the edge of the stage as he methodically packed away his fiddle.

He waited a few breaths longer before slipping out a side entrance into the cool night. The narrow alley was cloaked in darkness; the tavern sounds muffled behind him. Pressing himself against the damp stone wall, Jamie swiftly changed his attire. He donned a long, black cloak that flowed around him. The deep hood concealed his features entirely.

‘I can't be recognized,’ he reminded himself, tightening the cloak's fastenings.

Beside him, Jay hovered silently. To Jamie's mild surprise, the spectral feline was now adorned with a tiny black hood of his own, the fabric mirroring Jamie's attire. Jay's luminous eyes blinked up at him mischievously.

"How did you—" Jamie began but stopped himself. There was no time for distractions, and he suspected Jay wouldn't have an answer anyway.

They moved together, shadows within shadows, as they navigated the labyrinth of alleyways. Jamie followed the soldiers at a careful distance, his footsteps soundless on the cobblestones. The Lower Quarter was a maze he knew well—a tangled web of streets where the unwary could easily lose their way. The moon hung high above, its silvery light casting pale beams between the crowded rooftops. Occasionally, a faint glow emanated from a shuttered window, the remnants of magical lights flickering softly.

The soldiers blundered ahead, their voices raised in drunken song. They stumbled over uneven stones, laughter turning to curses when one nearly fell into a gutter. Jamie kept them in sight, his senses attuned to their movements.

"What are you going to do?" Jay whispered inside his mind.

Jamie offered no reply. His focus was absolute, his mind mapping out the steps to come.

Jamie opened his Status Page, the gold letters floating before his eyes. He scanned the list of spells at his disposal, fingers hovering over the incantations he'd practiced in the shadows over the past few days.

Tonight would be the first time he'd wield them outside the safe confines of his experiments.

| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)

| Experience: [160 / 2000]

|

| Attributes

| Strength - 11

| Dexterity - 15

| Constitution - 11

| Intelligence - 16

| Wisdom - 14

| Charisma - 18

| Magics

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

| Dancing Lights [1/1]

| Detect Magic [1/1]

| Ghost Sound [1/1]

| Alarm [1/1]

| Cause Fear [1/1]

Almost all his spells revolved around manipulation and illusion—tools perfectly suited for both captivating performances and orchestrating surprise attacks. He felt a surge of confidence; these abilities would serve him well in the moments to come.

As he moved silently through the labyrinthine alleys of the Lower Quarter, Jamie halted abruptly, pressing himself against the rough stone wall. Ahead, the trio of soldiers he had been trailing had come to an unexpected stop.

One soldier, swaying slightly, leaned heavily against the wall of a narrow alley. The dim light from a distant lantern barely reached them. With no other souls in sight, the soldier began fumbling with his belt, seeking the relief of emptying his bladder. His companions averted their gazes, feigning ignorance of his actions.

"It's time," Jamie whispered to himself, a steely determination settling over him. He closed his eyes briefly, centering his thoughts, and began to set his plan into motion.

Murmuring the arcane words under his breath, he cast his first spell.

[Dancing Lights]

Jamie conjured forth wisps of luminescent orbs. The spheres of light flitted into existence, hovering and bobbing like will-o'-the-wisps. They danced gracefully around the soldiers, casting eerie glows upon their armor and bewildered faces. Jamie kept the spell's power minimal—just enough to unsettle and distract them.

Before the soldiers could fully comprehend the strange phenomenon, Jamie invoked his next spell.

[Ghost Sound]

From the shadows echoed a disembodied voice, haunting and resonant. "You dare to steal from the Fat Pig!" it boomed, reverberating off the alley walls. The soldiers jerked upright, eyes wide as they scanned their surroundings.

"Who's there?" one of them barked, his words slurred. "We are the City Guard—show yourself!"

The ghostly voice replied, dripping with menace. "You will pay for plundering the Lower Quarter yet again."

The two soldiers who stood by struggled to unsheathe their swords, but their inebriated state rendered their movements clumsy and slow. Panic flickered across their features as the dancing lights swirled faster, the ghostly voice echoing in their ears.

Seizing the moment, Jamie emerged from the darkness, his cloak billowing behind him as he sprinted toward the first soldier. The man, still reeling from fear and intoxication, barely registered the figure rushing at him. With his trousers awkwardly bunched around his knees, he was defenseless.

Jamie swung an ordinary staff, the wooden rod connecting solidly with the side of the soldier's head. The man's eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground, collapsing into the puddle at his feet.

"Do you have any idea what you've done!?" roared the second soldier, finally wrenching his sword free. He staggered, attempting to level the blade at Jamie, but his grip was unsteady.

Jamie recognized him—the one whose thoughts had revealed a deep-seated hatred for the Fat Pig tavern. Locking eyes with the soldier, Jamie advanced. The man's bravado faltered; fear and confusion mingled in his gaze. He swung his sword wildly, but the arc was wide and lacked strength.

Ducking beneath the haphazard strike, Jamie swept his staff low, striking the soldier's legs. The man yelped as his knees buckled, sending him sprawling onto the rough cobblestones.

The third soldier, witnessing his comrades' swift defeat, turned pale. "I—I’ll get reinforcements!" he stammered, stumbling backward before turning and fleeing down the maze of alleys. His footsteps echoed briefly before fading into the distance.

With two of the trio subdued Jamie knew his task was not yet complete. He approached the fallen soldiers, their groans filling the silence of the night. Raising his staff, he delivered a series of calculated blows—not aimed to maim or kill but to ensure they would remember this encounter. Bruises blossomed where the wood met flesh, and the soldiers' protests weakened into whimpers.

From a nearby rooftop, Jay observed the scene with wide eyes, his ethereal form softly illuminated by the distant glow of the city. The feline's fluffy paws were pressed against his mouth, and his gaze showed a mixture of shock and apprehension. His tail flicked nervously as he watched Jamie's actions.

"Isn't that enough?" Jay called out softly each time the staff descended.

Jamie paused, his breath steady, and looked down at the soldiers. "Perhaps," he muttered, satisfaction tempered by pragmatism.

New golden words hovered near him.

| The Goddess of Magic is impressed with the use of such basic spells.

| +10 Experience Points

| The God of War lost interest after witnessing a cowardly fight.

| The God of Intrigue and Mistery is clapping at your performance

| +50 Experience Points

Jamie blinked upon seeing the new messages; he hadn’t realized that the gods could also influence his growth. However, time was of the essence, and this was not the moment for him to stop to chat or read.

He withdrew into the web of alleys, moving swiftly and with purpose. Ducking into a secluded corner, he shed his cloak and attire, now stained with traces of blood and grime. Bundling them tightly, he hid the garments beneath a loose stone in the wall. Clad once more in his inconspicuous attire, Jamie blended seamlessly into the quiet streets.

Returning to the Fat Pig, Jamie slipped inside unnoticed. The tavern was winding down, a few patrons lingering over their final drinks. He ascended the creaking staircase to his room, exhaustion beginning to weigh upon him. As he lay down, the whispers of the night's events played briefly in his mind before sleep claimed him.

Dawn broke with a cacophony of shouts and the clamor of heavy boots on wooden floors. Jamie's eyes fluttered open, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "They've arrived," he mused, listening to the commotion below.

Rising, he quickly gathered his belongings, ensuring nothing was left behind. There was no telling how the morning would unfold, and he preferred to be prepared. Making his way downstairs, he was greeted by the sight of stern-faced soldiers filling the tavern's common room.

The lieutenant commanding the soldiers stepped forward, unrolling a parchment with a flourish. "By order of the Captain of the City Guard," he proclaimed, his voice sharp and authoritative, "this establishment is hereby closed. The proprietor, Mr. Bones, is to be detained and investigated for conspiracy and attempted murder against three members of the City Guard."