[OOC: Robin is wearing a hat this time to hide her ears(lack of human as well as presence of rabbit), in case that wasn’t clear enough in the “A Misleading Contract” segment. Her cap looks somewhat like the hat in the following link, only puffier since it has to hold more volume and slightly oversized: Click Here For Newsboy Cap. It is also black to match her clothes.]

Although it had been a cornerstone of our family’s wealth in Revaliir, mercenary work never really sat well with my wife, Robin, whenever she was involved in the decision making process. She did not see the profession as I did, sadly – i.e. a market where you got to choose what you did and weren’t beholden to a potentially unscrupulous employer. Rather, the former Ataiyan warrior in her thought of the mercenary trade as dishonorable at its base. She believed that the individuals involved in it were far too focused on money and not enough on people. For that reason, she preferred the both of us taking on honest labor whenever possible: like monster hunting or even just artisan jobs. It was a decision I didn’t mind, although it was one I didn’t understand given what I knew of her tendencies.

Despite that strong opinion of hers, you see, there were times in the past that even Robin had taken mercenary work, specifically when it aligned with her values. If she thought the cause of a contract was just, for example, she would take it, oft in partnership with local authorities and other mercenaries. Many of those incidents occurred in Canelux and Parvpora to great success, ending in the capture of murderers and kidnappers who had evaded the local authorities until outside help got involved.

But, now that I think about it, there was one event, one contract in particular that probably soured her attitude toward any future mercenary work regardless of cause. It was a contract that she still remembers, and one that really made her question the “purity of the law” concept that she had believed in as a guard on those Ataiyan streets of her childhood.


It was a muggy Terra morning back then. The stormy season was finally starting to calm down, and so more vessels were beginning to dock in Egjora in preparation for the first harvests of the year. Robin was among the newest arrivals stepping off those early ships, showing up in the great Harbor wearing her usual black and red gear that she always adorned in public. She had been going stir-crazy from staying inside our family home too much before then, and had it in her head as she disembarked with cap over ear that it was long past time to look for work again. A little sea air in the open world would do her some good, she thought, and so she chose Egjora to start her search for contracts in the new year.

Unfortunately for my wife, however, she had only been to that city by the sea in passing before stepping off the ship this time. Much like a layover in airship flights, she had only docked in the kingdom once before, many years prior to this arrival and only for the express purpose of boarding another vessel on her way to Itjivut. She’d not actually been properly introduced to the city before the ill-fated contract came up, and, sadly, that also meant she didn’t know how zealous the watch of Egjora could be when it came to perceived criminals.

The contract that Robin eventually accepted was one that had been posted in front of the Beryl Moon Guesthouse in the heart of the capital for about a day. Apparently there had been a rash of strange thefts in the city recently, ones that were beginning to get out of control and turn into cases of vandalism. The watch, in response to that crime spree, was looking for mercenaries to help them bring it to a close: to track down the perpetrator and turn them over to the proper authorities so they could face justice for what they had done.

Truth be told, though, this contract, while mundane in other cities and familiar to Robin’s eyes, was actually an unusual one for Egjora in general; not because the city lacked in crime but because its ruling elite preferred to coddle the idea that crime didn’t exist on their island. The merchant families favored their rosy tint, the Stepford effect they worked so hard to maintain. Everything was to be perfect, a shining beacon on the sea; and anyone who threatened that status quo was to be removed, their deeds hidden from public eye.
    
Of course, Robin did not know this ugly, Egjoran truth; and, by the same token, she didn’t realize how bad the situation must have been for the guards to admit they had a problem in the first place. In fact, she remained oblivious of the difficulties ahead of her up until the point when she finally visited the last site hit by the thief before her arrival: a clothing store in uptown Egjora by the name of Lumerre’s.

The First Soft Touches of Silk

When Robin arrived at the storefront for that latest target, she had expected to find smashed windows or, at the very least, a trail from a gavril’s ring. You know: something that would suggest a break-in. What she found instead, though, looked more like it belonged in a child’s nightmare rather than in reality.

“By the sun.” It was true that none of the windows had been broken like in Robin’s expectations, but there was definitely something unusual about them. Because even though the building showed no sign of forced entry through any of the glass panes on its front face, the insides of every window were covered in superfluous amounts of web: enough that you couldn’t even see inside the building. It was as if an army of spiders had invaded the store alongside the thief, and used their spinnerets to obscure the scene of the crime before it took place.

From that first impression alone, it was obvious to my friend that she was not dealing with a normal criminal. Thoughts abounded in her head as to what the thief could possibly use to conjure so much silk, and she worried that she might be dealing with a drider in those first few moments. But what drider steals clothes in the middle of a human city? There wasn’t enough information for her to assume anything just yet, but there was, thankfully, a guard of some sort available to explain.

“Another group of mercenaries, I take it,” he began, for more than just Robin had arrived to seek the bounty that day? “Come closer if any of ye intend to pursue the contract.” The man who spoke had a raspy voice, like someone who smoked one too many pipes. He was an overweight chap, definitely not young and certainly not anywhere close to retirement age. In fact, while he wore the watch’s coat of arms, he didn’t possess any remarkable trait that would suggest he was someone regularly involved in guardsmen affairs. More likely, he was just a clerk in charge of providing additional information to fortune seekers. Maybe a former employee of Lumerre himself who had been temporarily conscripted?

Regardless of his true identity, however, Robin was among the group that answered the man’s invitation that morning. She stepped forward from the crowd, stopping in front of his desk alongside the others, and listened patiently as he began telling the would-be hunters all the details for the contract at hand.

“The reward, as you saw on the poster, is 1000 silver, but only for the live return of the thief.  If you kill them, you forfeit half the reward. Also, the stores that have been robbed will pay you a portion of the value for any of their stolen goods you may recover; provided, of course, they are undamaged. As for how much, we will put you in contact with them once you have merchandise so they can tell you themselves.” Pausing for a moment, the stout watchmen finally stood up from his makeshift office and turned toward the shop itself. “As you can see, this is no ordinary thief you’re going to be dealing with. Whatever they are, they’re capable of generating a large amount of silk that’s resistant to blade and tear alike. Every storefront or warehouse they’ve hit thus far has left some of this residue behind, but Lumerre’s is by far the worst yet. We found Lumerre himself plastered to the wall next to the stairwell in his shop the morning after the theft occurred, and he claimed – after we managed to burn the webs off his mouth – that he saw the shadow of the perpetrator in action before he was captured. We suspect the thief was startled by his sudden arrival since he normally doesn’t stay that late in his store, and this theory appears to be corroborated by Lumerre’s claim that he heard someone leaving through the back door shortly after he was immobilized.” Turning back to the day’s mercenaries, he concluded with some additional details. “Just so you know, the front door, which you can see from here, was knocked off its hinges by us. When we first arrived at word of trouble, the perpetrator had sealed the lock with web, so no key would even go in it. Rather than wait for a mage to figure out what was wrong, we decided to just bash it down to rescue Lumerre as soon as possible. Beyond that, the task of hunting the criminal falls to you lot from this point forward; and to whatever help the watch can provide you. You will be allowed to peruse this crime scene under the supervision of the guards inside, during which I am authorized to share any additional information that we have already gathered before your arrival. You need only ask. Just don’t get cheeky and try to steal anything else while blaming it on the thief. We are watching you.” And with that, the pudgy clerk finally stepped out of the way for any brave soul willing to enter.

"Bloody guardsmen…who shuts down all nautical traffic coming and going out at the drop of a hat? I'm practically thawing out from frostbite here!" Out on the corner of the duchy's pristine cobblestone walkways, there sat a young man who clearly wasn't part of the local populace. His dark overcoat, crisp gloves, and black polished leather boots made him look more like an undertaker or director of a funeral parlor than a practitioner of Karithian medicine. Efrain had just arrived in Egjora after a long and uncomfortable trip aboard a small flagship from Itjivut. The trip was no holiday; he had went to that gods-forsaken frozen piece of land for the express purpose of procuring some elusive materials said to possess extraordinary magical properties. Things like these wouldn't be sold internationally, the locals jumping at the chance to monopolize and likely profit off travelers simultaneously. He spent hours trudging through blasted subzero temperatures and still had nothing to show for it. The ride back wasn't any better, with the seas being abnormally choppy. He had reserved a private cabin, but that was hardly luxury accommodations when you could still hear grown men in the next room violently vomiting with every toss of the waves. Fortunately he didn't get seasick, but enduring days of poor sleep due to various disturbances left Efrain less than a happy camper once he set foot on solid land.

Everything about this bloody city was annoying. Coming into the nearest cafe for coffee he was peppered with small talk and plastered smiles. When the proprietor began prying about his profession he refused to answer, and that was when they mistook him for an employee of a mortuary. All the better, as they would never leave him alone otherwise. The old woman was probably scouting for potential mates for her unmarried relatives. Taking his coffee black, he sat outside at the tables where at least he had an excuse to not respond to the cafe owner's prattling. The only thing he could find worth praising of the duchy was their acknowledgement of public cleanliness. He had a nagging headache from sleep deprivation and was already on his third cup when he noticed a group of men with the insignia of the local guard plod by. A lower eyelid twitched as he remembered how they forcibly docked all sailing vessels due to some overreaction of a thief running amok. 

Leaning his head back in a jerk to drain the rest of the potent brew in one gulp, he leaned his head on a hand as he faced the fact he would have to spend the night in this sodding place. If he hadn't felt sick to his stomach on the ship, he was feeling it now. All those cheery smiles and overly-affable greetings were like nettles rubbing against his skin. Oh and don't get him started on their attempts to 'cheer' him up too. Feeling better with the bitter taste of coffee on his tongue, he ducked inside to leave his payment on the counter while the proprietor's back was turned and left immediately.

Aspect flew over the city for a short time, using her keen eyesight to observe the occupants below. She couldn't remember if she'd been here before or not, but the whole city held a sense of familiarity. Everything there was clean and the people were unusually pleasant. She dipped her wings slightly and dropped lower until she was just above the tallest buildings. She perched gracefully on the top of the largest building and started looking at the shops and taverns. She was looking for one in particular. After finding it, the small falcon pushed off from the building and dived down. She had heard that there was a thief running loose here and they were offering a substantial reward for his capture. She was eager to find out what that was.

Once she got close to the ground, she hovered briefly, and her form changed to that of her human shape. She dropped onto the cobblestones and proceeded to dust off her leather jacket. She paid no mind to the people watching her as she adjusted her hair and walked towards the tavern. She quietly opened the door and headed directly towards the small group of people gathered around a heavy man who stood behind a desk. She debated about taking the form of an insect to listen better, but she didn't trust the people around her to not squish her. They appeared to be a rather dense and phony lot. She didn't trust any of them from the start.

She perked up at the mention of 1000 silver for his capture, noting the split reward if the captive was brought back dead. Either way, that was still a fair chunk of change for her time. Her eyes followed him as he showed them the storefront, once very nice, was now covered in a sticky strong silk material. Possibly a large spider. She thought to herself. She had taken the form of spiders before and was capable of using her spinnerettes to make silk like the kind found on the shop, but none of the spider forms she could take would be capable of making a web this large and resilient. 

The short man finished his speech, she narrowed her eyes at the thought of being watched by the guards. She had no intention of taking anything, but the thought of being spied on was rather annoying. She was one of the first to walk into the store, finding many of the goods either taken, destroyed, or caught in the notorious webbing that blocked the front of the store. She touched it with her hand, finding it both soft and incredibly flexible, but completely immune from almost any kind of damage. It wasn't a surprise that they had to burn it in order for them to get Lumerre off of the wall. She bent over, taking the form of a cat, and using her small size to her advantage to sneak around objects and webbing where people would be too big to fit.

Despite what you might imagine for someone married to yours truly, the first to take up the offer of entry from Egjora’s primary case for weight loss programs was not actually my bunny lass. The other mercenaries were far more eager than she to enter that decrepit corpse standing in the middle of an otherwise busy shopping district, and they were all led by a shapeshifter who took the form of a cat instead of the foreigner dressed in black and red armor who seemed perfectly content to stand in the back. Robin was not like them, you see. She did not possess their visceral impatience: the kind that possesses people to take one too many risks just for the next payday. Nay, her past experiences had stripped her of that dangerous, hot-blooded nature that so often coincides with youth; and so she took her time in front of that store when others either cast caution to the wind or ran in fear.

It was for that very reason, however, that Robin began to notice things that others had not; or, at the very least, things they hadn’t talked about. For example, only the front of the first floor looked like a spider’s den the day after the grand theft had occurred. The second floor, in contrast, was almost entirely clean at first glance. It looked uncharacteristically untouched, especially given what was common knowledge about Lumerre thanks to the gossip that occurred so shortly after he had been robbed.

Lumerre Gusteau – the proprietor of the store – was a successful businessman in the port city of Egjora. He clearly wasn’t hard-up for cash, judging by the size of his storefront in the primary business district; and, given how much of a nuisance it would be to deposit proceeds from such a business at the end of every business day – not to mention the opportunity cost of closing early to do such a thing – he very likely kept a safe somewhere inside the building to protect his earnings until he could make it to the bank at the end of the week. The most logical place to keep a safe like that in a building without a cellar like Lumerre’s store would be upstairs, and yet the second floor looked completely undisturbed.

 That raised some red flags for my wife, and she immediately tried to go upstairs to satisfy her suspicions. But, before she could go any further than the base of the staircase, the guard from before stopped her.

“There’s nothing up there,” he called out from the front entrance while another guardsman blocked her path. “And just so everyone else here knows, the second floor is off limits. Mr. Gusteau himself has requested that specifically, and the watch has agreed to grant his request since nothing up there appears to have been taken. That is all. You may proceed with what you were doing before.” Beyond those comments, the pudgy clerk fell silent again, grabbing some jerky from his pouch while everyone else got back to canvassing.

‘They’re hiding something,’ Robin thought as he began chewing on that meat, even though she obeyed his command to step away in the end. Drops of my own cynicism had worn off on her during our time together, and so the usually happy bunbun felt that something was amiss in that otherwise ordinary heist; something that required the watch to lie to her about its extent. Whether it was the guard or Lumerre himself behind that deceit, she could not say; but her gut told her that this crime she was investigating was more than a simple burglary.

Regardless of Robin’s misgivings about that incident at the staircase, however, there was little she could do to directly remedy them without making herself an enemy of the watch. The man guarding the stairs in front of her was heavily armed, and, even though she knew she could beat him in a one on one fight, his assault would inevitably bring the full force of Egjora down on her head. For the moment, her best option was to give up on the second floor and focus on examining what she could downstairs. Perhaps later on she could find evidence that would convince law enforcement to change their minds about upholding Mr. Gusteau’s request, but, until that point, there was plenty of other evidence to look at: not least of which were the cordoned off areas on the first floor.

The Mysterious Set of Footprints

While true that a vast majority of the store’s merchandise floor was open to investigation, there were several pockets throughout the room that had been sealed off from regular traffic. For one reason or another, they were determined to be hazardous or simply insufficiently documented; and so the mercenaries were barred from entering them via ropes and “do not enter” signs. One of these areas was next to the stairwell that Robin had been blocked from using; and that particular region had something unusual about it that stopped the woman in her tracks.

As far as anyone could assume based on how the watch was handling the current state of affairs, the thief that had been raiding Egjora was thought to be a solo act. Yet judging by the content of Lumerre’s store, there was an awful lot of damage for just one individual to have caused. The store looked like it had been hit by a web-spinning tornado instead of being robbed in the dead of night, with the greatest concentrations of silk also appearing in areas closest to the front of the store near the counter. The whole scene lent itself more to a botched burglary rather than just an extreme case of vandalism; and that viewpoint was reinforced by the sets of footprints that Robin found inside the area next to her.

Although obscured by web in some places, there were several different trails in the area that did not match the metallic boots the watchmen were wearing inside the building. These prints had treads, signifying that the boots used to make them were leather; and most also had nicks in their patterns as if the boots themselves were well worn by previous owners. Some of the prints even had lengthy trails over the web, meaning that someone other than the watch had been stepping in that area after the silk was already placed there.

Feeling the need to bring these details to the attention of the watch, Robin struck up a conversation with the fat clerk near the entrance to the store after making her way over to him.

“Excuse me, are you sure there’s only one thief,” she asked politely after getting his attention? He quickly turned toward her in response, but with an indignant expression as if she were interrupting his lunch. He didn’t even stop chewing during the conversation that followed, just answering as the questions came up no matter how full his mouth was: an overall vulgar individual.

“We’ve never confirmed that. Why?”

“There’s footprints in the cordoned off sections of the room: multiple sets that don’t look consistent with the boots I see on the watchmen around here. Unless there was someone other than the watch that went inside-”

“True. We saw those footprints already, and assumed that most were just from previous customers the day of the theft. I can assure you that the watchmen you see here didn’t make those prints; but, unfortunately, we haven’t been able to determine if any of them were made after the attack. The web has made it difficult for us to confirm since there are so many tracks and many of them are overlapped. Plus, that area of the store used to hold Master Gusteau’s most valuable pieces. He put them there so as to always keep an eye on the entrance to his second floor. Therefore, it’d be impossible to trace all of those footprints without destroying-.” He was droning on, lecturing the mercenary in front of him even though he didn’t know her and was spitting food at her face without a care because he couldn’t be bothered to stop eating. Robin eventually cut him off during that rude episode, though not before he had already done the same to her.

“There’s seven,” she said while wiping the food from her faceguard, to which he retorted incredulously with,

“Pardon?” She persisted despite his skepticism, and continued in that same polite but subservient voice she had a bad habit of perpetuating.

“Seven sets of foot prints are on top of the web in the space near the stairwell with deep enough impressions to signify that they were made while it was still moist. The rest of the other 20 tracks in that area have portions overlapped by the silk and no continuous tracks like the primary seven I have observed. That means that at least seven people who weren’t guardsmen went into the cordoned off area near the stairs while the silk was still wet. Also, six of them had boots, while one was barefoot.”

The clerk, baffled by this testimony, didn’t initially know how to reply to it. He quickly swallowed his jerky first, and then looked over toward the area before finally turning back to Robin herself with a sideways expression.

“You’re not human, are you miss,” he asked after a long pause which sent chills down Robin’s spine? She was afraid to answer the question at all, freezing in place until the midget in front of her eased up. “You don’t need to answer,” he continued with a sigh. “Egjora isn’t like our sister-city Adeluna when it comes to nonhumans, but I have been there before and I understand your apprehension. I’ll forward your information to the lead investigator, because, if there are indeed seven sets of footprints from non-guards – even if we assume that one set is from Mr. Gusteau himself – that means we might be dealing with a group instead of an individual. It would also explain why this scene is worse than the others.”

That last part caught the foreign mercenary’s attention, finally forcing her back to reality. It was something the guard had failed to mention before, and so she pressed for more information before he temporarily left to relay what she had already given him.

“Worse? The thefts before this weren’t as bad,” she asked while her rabbit ears perked up underneath the burgeoning cap she wore to hide them?

“Crime is crime, but even I admit the previous incidents were less severe than this one. They only involved a few missing articles each time and the webs were only traces unlike the globs you see here. Lumerre’s burglary was very different. He lost his whole inventory. He’ll have to replace it from scratch once he gets rid of the webs. Good thing he has good insurance, I guess.” There was something in that statement that made Robin feel as if she needed to know more, so she pushed her luck further.

“What did they steal? In the heists before this one, I mean.”

“Clothes, food, hygiene items. Recently a jewelry and magic store were hit too, but, before that, the thefts seemed solely focused on everyday items. No doubt testing guard response times before the big heist, if you ask me; but it does seem quite the jump to go from petty theft to robbing an honest man blind.” It was after saying that that the guard finally cut off all further questioning. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to report this to my superior,” he said while leaving the building. He signaled the remaining guards before his exit to watch the cordoned areas even more strictly than they already were; but, unbeknownst to him, that order also distracted the stairway guard from his pre-existing duties. Soon he would move from his post, allowing an especially stealthy individual to slip through to the second floor and discover what was being hidden.

Having slaked his thirst and medicated his headache, there wasn't anything else to do besides kill time. Thumbing through an edition of the local papers wasn't much help with the distinct lack of anything meaningful. The only thing that did catch his attention was this headline: 'Rampant Crime Spree in Our Fair Duchy, Guards Request Assistance'. At last, a piece of real news. Scanning the pages, Efrain began cherry-picking the most important bits out of the heavy pro-Egjoran slant of the herald's editorial. Much to the shock and dismay of loyal members of the duchy, crime was afoot. Robberies of several high-profile stores and small shops with the local guard running about like hounds after a fox. Very little details were written about the actual robberies themselves, with an overabundance of side commentary from the editor and pointless interviews of the victims. He tossed the paper onto the table in disgust. All those words just to explain a half dozen places were broken into. What a waste of time.

Tired of sitting, he left his spot to find a more private place for lodgings. As much as he hated the suffocating hospitality, his best bet would lie in one of the small bed and breakfasts further from the commercial districts. Heavy footsteps led to a sideways glance, showing a few people dressed like sellswords hurrying down a street. They seemed to be discussing something, dropping the words 'paydirt' and 'reward'. They were excited and in good spirits as one of the group with a thin scar over his eyebrow crooked the side of his mouth in a smirk. Just another fortune hunter out of the rabble–none of his business. The oddness didn't come to him until long after, remembering that Egjora presented itself too genteel for hired blades to breathe the same air as their folk.

"Oh hello there! How may I–" "A room for one, second floor." "Why certainly! Is there anything else I can–" "Yes, I'll be having breakfast in the morning. Coffee–black please." The older man with spectacles was somewhat flustered by the Rosenite's blunt way of speaking, but was good-natured enough to recover without being upset. Efrain procured a key to his room and was informed dinner would be at six in the evening for all boarders before peeling off his thick layers for a much needed bath. Gods, how he missed warm water so much. With his clothes on a coat rack he was partially submerged in a modest porcelain tub raised off the ground with carved feet. The other occupants of the rooms were out to see the sights, if there were any. The madame who ran this little cottage with her husband was busy making meal preparations so he had the tub all to himself. Reaching out towards a small glass bottle with crystals, he pulled it over and popped off the cork before dumping the contents into the bathwater. The salts dissolved immediately creating a fizzing reaction, soothing his nerves. Marinating in the mixture for half an hour, he decided the water was too lukewarm and had enough. 

In a fresh set of clothes, he went to the dining hall to check if people were returning. The couple and staff were busy, and he was nearly sure he'd get the privilege of eating alone when the door burst open with a noxious fog of musky perfume. Scratch that, it was musk and perfume. About several bottles' worth. As he was suffocating on a lack of fresh air, the offenders strode in like dandies straight off a gilded carriage. A tall, svelte redhead with a fake beauty mark under her right eye sashayed in under a flood of mink fur strips called a coat followed by a man half her height with an outfit just as gaudy. Whoever thought a saffron yellow neckerchief could go with a carmine striped suit should be drawn and quartered. Their clothes were ostentatious in multiple senses of the term and they were sickeningly sweet on each other. Why two people like these would be rooming in this quaint little place was beyond him, and Efrain was making himself scarce when the madame saw they had returned.

"Oh my, welcome back Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick! You're just in time for dinner! Did you have a lovely stroll this afternoon?" The madame asked. The short mustachioed man pulled out a chair at the table for the lady, who fell into it with the exaggerated grace of a primadonna. "Yes, it was absolutely charming Gertrude! Oh the little shops and old-fashioned streets are just like a painting out of a storybook. Isn't that right darling?" "Myes, indeed dear! It was po-si-tively bucolic!" The way the man punctuated his syllables set Efrain's teeth on edge. He slipped away up the stairwell while the three prattled on with their chatter. He should've said he would have dinner outside tonight. 

"Did you hear about the terrible news Mrs. Chadwick? Some ne'er-do-wells have taken upon themselves to rob the good folk here in Egjora." The madame shook her head. "What is this world coming to?" The redhead feigned the stages of ignorance and shock as she was comforted by her darling husband. "How awful! Gertrude you must be so worried! And your husband Charles, running an inn all by yourselves." She offered a silk handkerchief to the madame who dried the corners of her eyes. "There there, call me Ruthie. You remind me of my dear darling mother, before she passed away." "Oh bless your heart…" Efrain rolled his eyes as he continued his stealthy attempt to climb the stairs when they continued their conversation. "You have our condolences ma'am. Now, what about them robberies?" 

Eavesdropping gave snippets of the stores that were mentioned in that day's paper, but with more detail on the investigations' current state of affairs. The Egjoran guards were so stumped as to finally admit they needed help, and mercenaries were coming in to take the job. They were offering a hefty reward of one grand in silver, tantalizing enough to draw all sorts of people out of the woodwork. So far no one was sure about anything besides the obvious. There was a mention of cobwebs being left at the scene of the biggest retail loss to date, which Efrain dryly mused that someone must have forgotten to clean up after their pet spider. His hopes of avoiding social contact were ruined as his stomach demanded food, and he was forced to sit through an awkward dinner of breaded cod and simmered vegetables. He finished first out of everybody and excused himself to retreat back to his room. The guards had better get their act together soon, or else he'd get himself a rowboat to paddle across the strait.

Aspect patrolled the inside of the shop silently while keeping a careful eye on both the guards and her fellow investigators. Some of them, like her, were more eager to go inside and explore, find out as much as they could early on in the game. Others were content to wait until it was less empty, focusing on the details from afar and looking at the big picture. Her peers were an interesting bunch, judging from the scents on their clothes, a lot of them came from all sorts of different places. Some weren't human either, there was a half-elf down the way and a small girl that smelled faintly of a rabbit. The girl caught her attention briefly, as she'd never met a were-rabbit before.

She hmphed quietly to herself. Bless her soul, she thought to herself. At least werewolves and things can eat meat. I'd hate to eat salads and roots for the rest of my bloody life. She moved her attention onward to the other objects in the room. Most items that were left were broken and bits of their remains and residues laid on the counters or the floor. She stepped around these piles of powder and splashes of liquid carefully, the last thing she wanted was to cause trouble, draw attention, or turn into a frog or something else small and pathetic and be unable to change back. She couldn't be too careful, sometimes the magic of others affected her ability to shift and she didn't want to waste any more time than needed

Using her flexible body, she ventured nimbly between objects and the webbing, keeping a relatively consistent distance away from the other people in the vicinity, but still being close enough to overhear what they were saying. She appreciated having the ears of an animal as she was able to tune into certain sounds based on the location and distance from her. It was rude to eavesdrop purposefully, that much was common knowledge. But to casually overhear something, especially if you just happened to be nearby and not making it obvious that you were trying to listen in, she felt those cases were socially appropriate. Such was the case when she saw the were-rabbit talking with a guard and the clerk down by the stairs. She sniffed some broken pottery and cloth while she carefully turned her ears in their direction. 

Here ears gave her a lot more information than her nose. The webbing was plain and scentless, it was like sniffing plain wax. She wasn't able to identify the creature she made it, nevermind just assumes it was some sort of gigantic spider variant. There had never been a spider in the natural world so large that it'd be able to spin a web this massive and strong. Nor would a simple charm on a spider to enlarge its size to an increased proportion would be able to generate enough web this fast and be as durable as it was. Spider silk was strong, but it takes a while for the spider to produce. A spider at an advanced size would still produce silk at the same rate it would have if it was smaller. There would be no way for a spider to set this all up in a few hours.

So instead she focused on her ears. The were-rabbit was talking with the clerk and the guard about a few sets of tracks she's found. She perked her ears briefly and slightly widened her eyes as the girl seemed to know right away how many tracks and sets of tracks there were. She couldn't tell if she was just making up numbers or if that was the correct number, but she was rather impressed by her accuracy. In a dog or pig form, she would be able to tell more information about each set of tracks, possibly even be able to track them to their place of origin if the weather didn't change too much since the break-in happened. 

They finished talking and she casually went back to sniffing broken bits of junk. There was not a lot of scents to be found, even on the broken items. The least she could get was that there was one human man amongst the group at one point. The rest of the individuals had covered their scents and traces very well with magical methods. She wasn't the big fan of magic. It was such a cheat at times in the natural world. She lifted her head of up and flicked her tail quickly as she saw that some of the guards and the clerk were leaving the store. She again caught sight of the were-rabbit and where she was casually training her gaze. The soldier at the steps had become exhausted and easily distractible. 

Now was an opportunity for her that she wasn't going to miss. Carefully she made her way across counters,  chairs, and thick pieces of spider web until she reached an open window. As careful as a cat, she jumped gracefully out the open window to the streets below. A few people walking by gave her odd looks as she made her way down the street a little way to a small alley. Here, after seeing that the place of clear, she closed her eyes on the shape of a small bird. Hummingbird. Within moments, the red cat became a small red-tinted hummingbird. Her wings flapped powerfully as she hovered in place getting used to the small form and its abilities. She didn't take the form of small creatures often, so this was a big change. After taking a few practices runs in the alley, she shot up and headed for the second-floor window. 

Robin’s hunch about the stairway sentinel eventually proved true in that web-strewn disaster of a store. As soon as the clerk had given him new orders, the man grew distracted and aloof. He meandered away from his previous location just far enough to where his body wasn’t blocking the whole of the stairwell anymore, and then took a long yawn while turning his gaze to the spot his impromptu superior had directed him. In the carefree demeanor with which he executed the order, however, he hadn’t realized that he had closed his eyes just long enough for a mischievous rabbit to take advantage. She did just that when the opportunity presented itself, slipping up the stairs behind him while everyone else was seemingly too preoccupied to notice.

The capped outsider advanced silently and swiftly into the immaculate confines of Lumere’s, 2nd floor office after gaining access to those stairs; and, much like she had surmised before entering the building - as well as what she had been told by the pudgy clerk – the room was ostensibly devoid of outside influence. Nothing appeared to have been tossed about like one would expect in a burglary, but, despite the lack of obvious interference, there were definitely suspicious abnormalities. Mainly, Lumere’s office - which was surprisingly big for your average, high-end merchant - was more like a nobleman’s suite rather than a shopkeeper’s record chamber. Robin had expected to find a desk and files along with some sewing equipment within; but, while she did find those things, they were all piled against the perimeter of the room. Everything further in and away from the sight of the public painted a drastically different picture of the merchant and his “honest” wealth; very much like Lumere was trying to put up a front.

Rather than find some humble pieces of furniture or maybe even empty floor space altogether in the rest of the room, Robin, instead, found a bed in the back left corner with the finest Mamlakian fabrics that money could buy. She also found several other pieces of furniture far too rich for someone of Lumere’s standing while wandering around; and even a fireplace which, while presently unlit, was filled with ashes. Next to that fixture was a luxurious lounge chair with a deep impression on the seat cushion and a throw rug with boots next to it. All of these were clean and far newer than anything next to the windows.

‘Doesn’t normally stay late in his shop, huh?’ Indeed, my wife’s question after being presented with this unexpected scene was an apt one, for clearly someone lived in that building in order for them to invest so much in the furnishings. What’s more, the amount of ash in the fireplace along with the indentation in the chair nearby suggested that someone had been keeping a long-burning fire active the night of the incident. Most likely, the culprit was Lumere, but why? For what purpose was he waiting that night?

The discovery of these clues just confused Robin more than she already had been. She wanted to use one of my gifts to discover what had transpired that night, but had nary a chance to act on that desire before she heard shouting from downstairs.

“Alright everyone, get out!” Apparently the clerk had returned early, and he was not in the best of moods. The hare practically jumped when she heard his voice coming from below, figuring herself caught; but that was far from the grim reality of what was about to be printed in a special edition of the town’s paper. “This case is now a murder investigation! Lumere’s been found dead after apparently following a woman into an alleyway: a woman he apparently claimed reminded him of the thief that robbed him blind two nights ago. We don’t have any other information at this point other than he likely died from poison; and, until the morgue can determine the exact circumstances of his death, you mercenaries will have to leave! We will post another notice within the day, and the reward will officially be doubled. That is all.”

Shocked at hearing this news, Robin now found herself smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation. She could hear people suddenly shuffling downstairs in response to the news, and knew, implicitly, there was no way she could escape back the way she came anymore without being noticed. She could also vaguely hear the clerk shouting at the guard from before; followed by that man’s heavy footsteps as he started up the base of the staircase. It was then she realized that she needed to leave, lest she be treated as a common criminal in the absence of an appropriate explanation.

Unfortunately, the nearest exit on that second floor to the mercenary was now only an alleyway window, one that had been locked shut from the inside. Robin was able to quickly unfasten it and jump out in time to cling to the side of the building, true, but she could not devise a plan to lock it back up before the guard arrived to take one final sweep. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the newly unlatched window, because, if he did, the conspicuous “ninja” on the side of the building – the one who lucked out in the fact that the alleyway was almost entirely devoid of onlookers – would have to make a run for it before she was spotted. For the moment, she’d just have to remain silent and hope for the best; at least until he went back downstairs.

Of course, the shapeshifter in the form of a hummingbird next to her might have had other plans in store when my wife’s bum practically came barreling toward her beak at break neck speed. Robin was aware of that animal’s presence before jumping out, but she hadn’t considered its potential humanity during their follow-up interaction. Rather, she acted like she was conversing with any other bird once they locked eyes, simply placing a solitary finger over her faceguard with a quiet but firm “shh” to follow it up - as she so often did to our own birds when she wanted them to be quiet.

After an awful evening, Efrain spent the rest of the night awake into the late hours of darkness reading. A warm cup of black tea and his assistant–whom he had expertly smuggled along–Heisei, kept him company. The Ataiyan dragon was the size of a small cat when coiled together, and was easily hidden underneath an overcoat. Time passed as the incessant chatter from the ground floor ceased, and he assumed the two annoyances had retired for the night. Before the madame could find out about his late-night endeavors, he snuffed out the light. He must have overslept, as when he woke he remembered not having been called to breakfast. Pushing himself out of bed he cracked open the drapes a smidgen. The bright light was blinding, he reeled back and hissed as his eyes were in protest. By the gods, it could be noon already.

Making himself presentable, he fussed and grumbled as he prepared to leave for another sordid day trapped on this island. Heisei came along like always. Choosing a new spot to buy a late brunch, he was leaving the premises as two burly…no, more like portly men wearing ill-fitted uniforms of the duchy's watch blocked his path. Efrain glared, his hands full with a ham and cheese croissant and a large mug of the blackest brew he could buy. "What do you want, you sodding brutes?" Being hungry wasn't helping his capacity for courtesy right now. The next voices he heard made him visibly roll his eyes with a snort of frustration."There he is constable! I'd know that sour face and grim get-up a mile away!" "Oh darling, what will we do? Should we find a new inn to stay at? I'd hate to leave dear Gertrude after we've grown so close!" Wouldn't you know it–it was the garish lady and dandy now cavorting with the local law enforcement. 

The boar in guard's clothing attempted to accost Efrain with his grimy paws, to which the apothecary gave a death glare and implied he'd use the steaming coffee in his hand with the same glance. "You're under arrest for the possession of some very suspicious objects sonny. Now we here in Egjora aren't cold-blooded, so how 'bout you start explainin' what a bunch of needles the length of hair were doing in your baggage?" Somewhat in shock, while he was still trying to process what was happening he looked over at the two simpering simpletons pretending to be frightened. "…You little rats. You went through my things didn't you?" They tried to look innocent and the guard stepped in to their defense. "Not to be heavy-handed or anything, but I think you should know that a very prestigious businessman has been found murdered. I heard they found two puncture wounds on his neck…just the size of those needles." 

Eyes wide, he gave an incredulous laugh. "You're accusing me of murder? Well if you're going to arrest me, then I'll have you know Mr. Constable that those two fools hiding behind you very likely broke into my room while I wasn't looking." The dandy and his 'wife' paled but Efrain didn't care. If they thought they could throw him under the carriage for a baseless accusation like that, he was dragging them down with him to the depths of the Infernos. "I would know, since I never left them out in the open to begin with. What else did you rifle through in there, Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick? My pockets, my coinpurse?" The two were too terrified to respond, and he took the chance to clarify a few things. "By the way constable, those needles they 'found' are used in acupuncture as a part of Karithian medicine. Those glass bottles inside my luggage contain medicine. Have a man run some tests. He'll confirm everything I've said. Now if you'll excuse me, my coffee has turned lukewarm."

Aspect heard a noise nearby as she was hovering nearby to look at the items in the room closer. She was adapting quickly to this form and was enjoying the benefits of both flying and the ability to hover. She didn't take forms often that could do both at the same time. It was usually one or the other, but as a hummingbird, she had increased speed and maneuverability. Getting inside the window and into the room without making a sound was remarkably easy. With wings, she didn't have to worry about the floor creaking or moving under her footsteps, nor leave tracks for anyone else to find. The only thing that gave her away was the faint buzzing of her wing feathers.

She heard the noise again, and slightly annoyed now, she flew over to the window. She looked around and didn't see anything worthy of notice. Suddenly a dark shape filled her vision and came in fast. She just had time to process the shape as a pair of legs before she dived out of the way with a squeak of surprise. She hit the floor hard and skidded a little on her belly feathers. She landed in a corner and sent up a small cloud of dust. Coughing, she stood on her small legs and shook the cobwebs and dust from her wings. She gave a shake before launching back up into the air. 

The person that had jumped through the window was standing quietly on the floor. It was a woman, with a muscular build like her, but several inches shorter. She wore armor, but even that couldn't hide her female physique. She flew up to her face, rather annoyed now, and looked through the faceguard with her bright blue eyes. She held a finger up to her face and told her to "Shh." Now she was starting to get angry with this petty thief. How dare she treat her like a simple-minded beast. "Excuse me," she hissed at her. "I will not take orders from you…" She would have said more but she heard heavy footsteps just outside the door.

She spotted a turned over piano or desk or some other large piece of furniture. "Over here." She ducked down behind the large furniture and hid quietly behind a large pot sitting on top of it. She'd barely landed and stilled her wings before she heard the door open. She hoped the woman had listened to her and hid somewhere. She could only assume that she had because the door was only open a short time and then it was closed. She heard the guard walk back down the steps and only after she didn't hear him anymore, did she turned and look at the woman.

"Let's try this again," she said quietly. She jumped off the furniture and changed back into her human shape. She brushed some dust off her leather jacket before straightening it. She held out her hand, her face sincere. "My name's Aspect." As she looked down at the woman she caught the hint of a rabbit again. So she was the were-rabbit she had smelled from earlier. Interesting. It was usually not a bad thing to have another shapeshifter around. Each form had their advantages over the others. 

[OOC: I make the assumption that Aspect didn’t leave the room to avoid the effects of the hourglass, but feel free to ignore it if you wish her to remain in the dark. The vision shows about 20-25 minutes of time, but the whole trip takes one second. It’ll be like nothing happened if you avoid it, so you can just ignore the “A Hidden Plot” part.]

Sadly, that woman turned bird did not respond in the manner that Robin would have wished her to had she known about the creature’s humanity before asking it for silence. In fact, the stranger was so offended by the notion of being mistaken for an actual bird by my wife that she opened her beak to chide this impromptu ninja even as the two of them were suspiciously hanging around a closed window like a burglar and her pet waiting for their chance to strike. Luckily, her voice, no matter how squeaky and jarring it was to the human in front of her, wasn’t loud enough to garner much attention; otherwise the guard might have thought to go further into the room. Instead, he left without much of a fuss, not even noticing that one of the windows on the far side of the chamber was now unlocked.

With his departure, Robin could finally let out a sigh of relief. She could safely reenter the second floor alongside her new acquaintance, and exchange proper introductions for a time.
 

An Impromptu Alliance? Part 1

When the tiny humming bird shed her disguise following the close call with the guardsman, Robin calmly greeted her with a light bow of the head. There was a time, relatively not too long ago, when she would have been shocked by such a transformation: ooing and awing as this tiny creature transformed into a woman several inches taller than her. But now? Aspect was a person just like any other; her shapeshifting ability functioning only as a quirk to make her unique.  For that reason, Robin was no more startled by her than she would be startled by any other stranger; albeit her respect toward said stranger, in this case, was thankfully not contingent on trust like my own.

“Sorry. I didn’t recognize the smell from the cat downstairs at first.” Not wishing to be rude, the warrior did shake Aspect’s hand at that point, but with an obvious air of awkwardness about her attempt. Rarely, if ever, did she do handshakes, so she wasn’t aware of any proper protocol she should have been taking in that instant with the mercenary in front of her. Instead of doing a normal one-handed shake like others, for example, she clasped both hands around Aspect’s offer, and steadily raised it up and down in slow, exaggerated motions. Only after a couple rounds did she finally let go and introduce herself properly. “Uhm, my name is Robin,” she said while subconsciously backing away from her guest. “I assume you’re another mercenary for this job, Aspect, and that you’re about to propose a partnership? I mean I can’t rightly say no if that’s the case, but please don’t make any sudden noises anymore if we’re going to work together. Technically, we’re not supposed to be here, and they also just put me on edge.”

Evidently, my wife’s business acumen had grown a little bit by this point in her life, because, unlike how her younger self would have handled the shapeshifter, she wasn’t immediately stumbling over her own tongue like an embarrassed girl trying to find the right words for a crush. She was still clearly out of her element in this social context, true, but she knew enough to voice her own concerns now instead of letting other people push her around. That said, she didn’t really grasp the concept of waiting for a response from strangers yet. She would easily do it for me or the people she trusted (soldier’s loyalty and all that), but Aspect was not afforded the same courtesy.

Instead of waiting for a yes or no to her own question, Robin immediately touched on her armor where her collarbone would be. A blue flash of light emanated from her outfit with this motion, followed by the appearance of a strange looking hourglass in her hand. It was an hourglass of deadtime, one that she quickly turned over after giving a brief, unsatisfactory explanation about her intent.

“Well, since we can’t tell much just from looking at this room right now and we don’t have the luxury of staying here too long, we should look at the building’s past using what time we have.” T’was then that the hourglass activated, transporting everyone and everything in that room back to the night of the burglary.

A Hidden Plot

Nothing in the world could be affected anymore as Robin drew back the clock. It could only be observed, like looking at the past through a telescope. My wife did just that when given the chance; but it was during the course of this tear in time that she ended up spying something she wished she hadn’t.

“You’re late.” The voice of the recently deceased Lumerre suddenly came from the formerly empty seat by the fireplace. The ashes in front had given way to warm flames like Robin suspected from her preliminary investigation, but, alongside them, a face had also appeared in the charcoal.

“You complain an awful lot for someone who stands to make so much from just a little bit of disloyalty.” The twisted and burnt visage was that of a man: young and probably barely into his thirties. He had a malicious grin on his face, with teeth that probably would have looked far too rich for his own good had they not already been substituted by flecks of blackened wood in the fireplace. Amusement seemed to possess him even in that clearly magical state, but Lumerre did not share in the experience.

“You said two hours ago. Closing time was then; and that was the time we agreed to pull off this charade.” Gripping his overpriced chair tightly, Lumerre made the wood crackle under his fingers. He was stronger than he looked, and definitely had a temper. “It looks suspicious now that I just happened to stay late on the night I was supposed to be kidnapped.”

And so the plot thickened, but not in a way that Robin had expected. The conversation continued in a very dark manner, one that made my wife feel way in over her head.

“Calm yourself, Lumerre,” the voice from the flames retorted even as his host remained blatantly irritated with him. “We didn’t wait for nothing.” As if musing, the young, magically gifted man paused. Suddenly there was a rustling coming from downstairs, just as if he had signaled something to begin. “The later this happens the less likely there will be witnesses to inform the Gyndnegle’s about the truth. The young lady that you’ve gained the heart of will be less likely to employ her mother’s funds for the ransom if it’s revealed that one of their rivals had a hand in it.”

Scoffing, Lumerre finally calmed himself, seemingly assured by the noises he was now hearing. “You’ve a point,” he said while relaxing in his chair, “But you should have let me know ahead of time. I could have come up with a reasonable excuse and told Melody before hand to make her worry even more.”

“Perhaps,” replied the mysterious individual with less of a grin than he started with, “but we needed to make sure you were actually willing to work with us. It’s how the game is played: one family trying to make another look bad without openly appearing dishonorable. I want the Gyndnegle’s to lose face, and you want your money. So long as everything goes according to plan, you’ll replace all your merchandise and still have hundreds of thousands leftover. Plus, the Gyndnegle’s will look weak in the face of the scandal that will result from this. Everyone wins; except for the Gyndnegle’s, of course.”

“As you say, but I wish I could keep some of those pieces from Arri. They’re valuable silks: irreplaceable!”

“You know the rules, Lumerre. Everything must go for it to be believable.”


Their conversation continued beyond that point – both Lumerre and his mysterious coconspirator taking turns with each other. Mostly, their chat focused on the girl they mentioned earlier. Apparently Melody Gyndnegle was a young member of the wealthiest family in all of Egjora. She had been courted by Lumerre over the past two years, drawn to him by his extravagant taste in clothing and impeccable fashion sense. He was now her fiancé, but he was more interested in Melody’s money than Melody herself. In fact, the only reason he was agreeing to this cockamamie scheme now was because her father was getting uncomfortably close to his true motives. Because of that man and the fact that Lumerre now feared the marriage would be called off, he was all too happy to accept the scheme of the Leuvarden family when approached.

But during the span of that meeting that revealed all this information to Robin and Aspect, the source of the spider webs had yet to appear. Lumerre and the man of flames were talking for a good 10 to 15 minutes in the temporal illusion that Robin had generated, and there hadn’t even been the slightest hint of a spider until the man in the chair became concerned about how long the noises had been going on.

“Your men are awfully slow, aren’t they,” he asked while the noises from downstairs were still persisting? “We’re already behind schedule. Tell them to hurry up.” Even the man in flame was curious about the delay. He seemed to signal for someone on his side of the communication channel, because his face moved like an attendant was whispering in his ear. Then, in a rapid disappearance of smugness, the young merchant became irate.

“What do you mean our men haven’t made it there yet?!” Suddenly, the atmosphere grew tense. Mr. Gusteau rose from his seat in a hurry, running down the stairs with lantern in hand. Robin followed him in the dreamscape, watching as he used the lantern’s light to look out into the lines of clothes that decorated his overpriced store.

“Who’s there?! Show yourself!” In that moment, the frightened gasp of a young girl came from further in the store. She was wearing items she had stolen from Lumerre’s stock, and was attempting to find some socks when the owner himself caught her red handed. She apparently wasn’t expecting him to still be there, nor was she prepared for him to run at her with angry breath. “Gods damned thief,” the misleadingly skinny man shouted as he rushed her without a moment’s notice, suddenly realizing that the noises he had heard up till now were actually caused by the petty thief terrorizing the business community in Egjora of late. He lunged at her, tackling her through the stands as if to be a “hero,” when he actually began trying to choke her to death instead.

The woman, whose face was initially obscured by the cloak Lumerre used to cover it, struggled to try throwing him off. When that didn’t work, however, she revealed herself to be more than a normal person. She actually shot webs out of her wrists in desperation. They weren’t ordinary webs either. They came out in globs, forceful enough to throw the man on top of her back against his own wall and into an impromptu cocoon. He was effectively muted and disabled in an instant, but the webs didn’t stop after that.

Frightened and on an adrenaline high, the woman hurriedly unearthed herself from the stands, continuously and uncontrollably shooting web everywhere her feet and hands went until she finally tore the cloth from her face.

‘An elf?’ Robin could only stand there in the time flux as the young, elven woman with pure white hair now stood breathing in the darkness in front of her. The whole room had been webbed by her struggle against Lumerre until it resembled present day, and the sight of that apparently frightened the young thief. She suddenly and violently grabbed a handful of clothes in a hurry when she realized what she had done and then bolted out the backdoor before anyone was the wiser.

It was shortly after that that Leuvarden’s men appeared in cloaks. They took one look at the store upon arrival, seemingly whispered something into a stone in front of Lumerre and then started leaving in silent procession.

‘Everything’s gone to hell,’ they had apparently whispered. ‘Abandoning the deal.’ Obviously, they had judged Lumerre to be too much trouble now, even as a pawn. The store was destroyed in a chaotic fight and any merchandise that wasn’t ruined or missing was now free pickings for these men that were once Mr. Gusteau’s allies. Lumerre’s precious clothes were cleaned out piece by piece thanks to those masked men, and all he could do whilst this was going on right in front of him was issue muffled complaints from beneath the web over his mouth. So ended the vision, cut short early by Robin herself.

Gyndnegle’s First Branch

In total, the vision of the past took all of one second to complete. Robin hadn’t actually moved from where she stood on the second floor during its duration, and she was pondering what she had seen whilst she waited for Aspect to speak up.

Meanwhile, the world continued to spiral out of control. In another part of town, near to where the late Lumerre Gusteau had met his end, a group of three people were being escorted for interrogation. This was Efrain’s group. He and the two thieves that attempted to steal from him had gotten themselves arrested by the guardsman that had visited their inn. Now, they were passing by the newest branch of the Byen Statskassen bank: the Gyndnegle’s First Branch.

In a show of union and prosperity – or, as some others in the city might say, careless arrogance – that building had been constructed in a joint effort between the richest family in the city, the Gyndnegle’s, and the bank that funded all the merchant families. It was a pretty piece of architecture: ostentatious but overall unassuming as far as banks go. No one was expecting it to go up in flames the day that Lumerre had been murdered, nor did the explosion that tore off its face draw anything from the surrounding neighborhood except pure, abject terror. As for the guard escorting Efrain and company, the last thing he remembered from that day was a piece of the “Y” in “Gyndnegle” striking him in the head just after it was blown free from the building across the street.

[OOC: Begin the merchant war I had planned.]