Cassandra cautiously cracked open the door, allowing just enough space for the distant clanging of a bell and the sound of soldiers racing down the street to reach her ears. In the midst of the chaotic scene, a buckboard pulled by a spirited horse whizzed by, its passenger—a man in blue robes—struggling to keep his hat in place as he fervently urged bystanders to clear the way. Cassandra surveyed the bustling scene before her, her attention caught by movement behind her. She turned to find Clare peering over her shoulder.
"Ah, that's Gan," Clare remarked, her voice laced with a mix of skepticism and annoyance, "the so-called drunken water mage in charge of the fire brigade."
Cassandra couldn't help but scoff, her tone carrying a subtle hint of disdain.
"A drunkard and a louse if there ever was one," Clare continued, her gaze fixed on the scene outside, "he'll consider himself lucky if he can even manage to extinguish a single flame!"
But Cassandra's focus was abruptly redirected as she spotted the man whom King Leo had forcefully ejected from the window sneaking away from the fiery chaos. Acting on pure instinct, she leaped out of the door, disregarding Clare's urgent pleas to halt. Shadows enveloped her as she discreetly trailed the man from across the street, amidst the flurry of people rushing either to extinguish the flames or revel in the spectacle.
Several times she lost sight of him in the sea of bodies that surged past, temporarily obstructing her view. It took a tense fifteen minutes until she finally caught a glimpse of him slipping into an alleyway. Swiftly crossing the street, she narrowly evaded a wagon pulled by horses, their barrels brimming with water. Steadying her breath, she cautiously peered around the storefront and spied the man entering a carriage adorned with a crest that stirred faint memories of her travels from her hometown. Straining to recall its significance, she was abruptly startled by a dagger pressed against her back, a chilling voice whispering into her ear.
"Could it be the missing adventurer that everyone is searching for? Fate seems to have smiled upon me today. Whether dead or alive, you will fetch me a handsome reward," the man's voice trailed off abruptly, drowned out by the thud of his lifeless body hitting the ground.
Stunned, Cassandra stood rooted to the spot, her gaze fixated on the man's lifeless form, blood seeping from his head. Clare approached, tossing a broken board with a bent nail onto the ground. Swift and deliberate, she rifled through the man's belongings, deftly concealing the pouches within hidden pockets sewn into her clothing. Sensing the pressing urgency of the situation, Clare swiftly unbuckled the man's belt and handed Cassandra the sword and scabbard.
"We must hurry, before anyone notices us," Clare hissed urgently, jolting Cassandra out of her dazed state as she battled back the surge of bile rising in her throat. Clare deftly removed her top hat, ingeniously utilizing it as a hiding place for the sword and the belt, carefully concealing the items from prying eyes. Taking a swift assessment of their surroundings, they realized that a stack of wooden crates offered a shield from the oblivious crowd on the street, more preoccupied with the billowing smoke of the fire than the clandestine events unfolding nearby.
Cassandra's gaze shifted back down the alley, only to discover that the coach had vanished from sight. A furrow formed on her forehead, deepening the lines of concern. Returning her focus to Clare, she observed as her companion skillfully arranged the deceased man against the crates, giving the appearance of someone merely in a deep slumber. Clare swiftly brushed off her hands before taking hold of Cassandra's hand, their fingers intertwining. Together, they scanned the alley for any prying eyes, finding solace in the absence of lurking onlookers.
Seamlessly blending into the bustling crowd, they navigated their way towards the site of the fire, their steps echoing the urgency of their shared mission. Yet, Cassandra's thoughts remained entangled in the aftermath of their recent actions, grappling with the stark reality that their encounter had resulted in the man's death. While he had posed a genuine threat, Cassandra's heart weighed heavy with the burden of taking another's life. She was no stranger to her own capacity for anger and ferocity, but the act of carrying out such violence was an entirely different realm, one she questioned her preparedness for.
As they turned into the side street, a scene of devastation unfolded before their eyes—Jill's store and several other buildings succumbed to the relentless onslaught of flames. Undeterred, courageous individuals hurled buckets of water at the structures not yet consumed by the inferno, their collective efforts aimed at thwarting further destruction.
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Cassandra's attention fixated on the drunken water mage, casting water spells with purpose and determination, gradually gaining control over the ravenous blaze. Along the street, a wooden trough, its planks overlapping harmoniously, channeled a steady flow of water towards the flames, a valiant attempt to quell their voracity. Tracing the path of the trough back to its origin, two blocks away, Cassandra witnessed a ceaseless flurry of activity as people fervently filled buckets from a nearby well, their tireless efforts ensuring a continuous supply of water to combat the inferno.
However, her focus abruptly shifted as her gaze locked with a figure astride a majestic horse. It was the baron she had encountered earlier, and her heart fluttered within her chest. Clad in deep red quilted armor, accentuated by a black leather breastplate, gloves, and boots, he exuded an air of both power and grace. A sword and shield stood ready at his side, prepared for any imminent threat. Without warning, the baron turned, their eyes meeting, and a slight frown marred his otherwise handsome face. Cassandra couldn't help but wish she could erase that frown and replace it with a smile, uncertain of the reasons behind his presence amidst the chaotic scene.
"Oh, heavens. Why must he be here?" Cassandra murmured under her breath, her words barely audible.
Clare, catching Cassandra's comment, turned to look, the faintest hint of laughter escaping her lips in response to Cassandra's choice of words. However, her amusement was short-lived as her gaze shifted towards her own employer, sitting upon his warhorse resolute amidst the tumultuous backdrop. A quiet, resigned whisper escaped her lips. "Damn," she uttered, recognizing her boss amidst the chaos, riding toward them with his squad of guards.
"Good tidings to you, Lady Thoughts and Mage Keep," Nickolas greeted, bowing his head respectfully towards both Clare and Cassandra.
Clare mentally voiced her concerns to Cassandra, "Oh, this doesn't look good. When he's polite to you, it's usually because you've done something really bad."
As Jill stepped past Cassandra and Clare, her words carried a touch of flirtation, "Oh my, what a handsome man and an officer of the guard. I hope you find that horrible beast of a man who manhandled me in my shop earlier. If it weren't for Cassy," she gasped in horror, shivering at the thought, "if it weren't for this young lady surprising that man and knocking him out of my shop window, I could have been raped or..."
Collecting herself, she took a deep breath, "killed. They are truly angels sent from the gods, answering my prayers. After they," Jill pointed at Clare and Cassandra, "used an expensive healing potion on little old me after the terrible beating I took. I'm so grateful that I sent my children to my sister's place to spare them from such horrors. Gods only know what that man and his brutes would have done to my children. You should give them a medal for saving a citizen of this fine city. Unlike that city to the north, in that other kingdom... Oh, forgive me, I'm so forgetful these days." Jill's words overflowed with genuine gratitude and concern.
One of the guardsmen interjected, addressing Jill, "Are you Jill from Jill's Carpets?"
Jill beamed, responding sweetly, "Why yes, I am. You see, Cassandra, the guards in this city know the names of the shopkeepers."
The guardsman's expression turned solemn as he delivered the news, "I hate to tell you this, but your shop is currently on fire. It appears to be a total loss," he spoke matter-of-factly.
Cassandra's eyes darted towards Jill's shop, now a blazing inferno that illuminated the night sky with an eerie glow. A mixture of frustration and disbelief welled up inside her as she took in the scene. Her gaze then shifted back to guard completely ridiculous comment. She almost said duh, but stop herself.
Jill reacted dramatically, placing the back of her hand against her forehead and turning slightly to the right, feigning dizziness. With a wink to Clare and Cassandra, she slumped to the ground, and two of the guardsmen reached out to catch her, inadvertently falling down with her in the process.
Before either Clare or Cassandra could react, they noticed that Nickolas had dismounted from his horse and was now observing the commotion surrounding Jill with a slight smirk, which quickly faded into a serious expression.
Taking charge, he addressed the guards, "You men, get the young lady inside the restaurant." Positioning himself between Clare and Cassandra, he guided both women into the establishment, passing a curious waiter who had been watching the excitement in the street.
"I may have made a mistake in putting you two together," Nickolas muttered under his breath, clearly exasperated. "I've heard reports of you both fleeing a gang of thugs, according to the citizens who spoke to the guardsmen. Then there were accounts of a woman with a doll and a black tube-like hat with a white band, much like the one you're wearing, Mage Keep," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And to top it off, that same man you kicked out of Jill's Rugs window proceeded to throw fireballs into the shop, setting it ablaze."
He stared at both Clare and Cassandra, his gaze filled with a mix of frustration and concern. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to extinguish magical fires?" he asked, shaking his head once again.
Cassandra responded, "I've only ever cast light bolts; I've never had to deal with magical fire. But you're mostly correct, Nicky. Except, I saw that man get into a carriage that had a crest on the door. I know I've seen that crest before, but I can't remember where." She paused, deep in thought.
Clare, with her mouth slightly agape, stared at Cassandra in astonishment for using the nickname that Nickolas despised. Nickolas opened and closed his mouth, momentarily speechless. He reached for a pitcher of water, poured his cup full, and downed its contents in one gulp, clearly needing a moment to compose himself.