Claire was still breathless when she found her sister at the refreshment table, the younger Crofford being taking a break from dancing. Lucelle needed only a look at her sister's flushed face to realize that something wasn’t right. With a gentle but firm gesture, the blonde girl stopped her from downing a cup filled with heavy red wine, the first thing she had grabbed from the table.

“It will only make you feel dizzy”, she said. With a focused frown, she scanned through the selection, quickly finding what she was looking for. Snatching a bottle, she filled her a goblet with an amber-colored liquid.

Claire downed it with a single gulp. She hiccuped as a pleasant warmth filled her belly.

She instantly felt a little better.

Lucelle smiled as she gave her a grateful nod, but then her expression turned serious.

“What happened?” She asked, half concerned and half inquisitive.

Claire fanned at herself with a hand, huffing. “Just a little sweaty from how stuffy is in here. Uh, it’s hot, isn’t it?” She glanced around, trying to keep away from her sister’s inquisitive gaze and by how similar she looked to their mother at that moment. “So, where are mother and father?”

Lucelle put her hands on her hips, straightening herself up. “Claire.”

“Is brother over there? I think…”

“Claire!”

Lucelle stood in her way, stopping her attempt at slithering away. The younger Crofford was petite and the exact opposite of everything a warrior was, but she still managed to look a bit intimidating with her puffed-up cheeks and expression that was a mix between concerned, categorical and hurt for being left in the dark.

Claire bit her lip. The drink was doing its magic now, steadily clearing her mind; the more it did so the more it was clear to her that she didn’t want to involve her sister in this mess. Too bad that, among other things, Lucelle inherited from their mother the ability to see right through her lies. She was good at faking it, she knew as much, but making believe a white lie to her mother or her sister was still beyond her skills.

The only way was to tell part of the truth.

“I may have wandered where i shouldn’t have… and i may have been caught”. She didn’t need to fake the blush that reddened her cheeks. Shame and humiliation: it was all there for real.

Lucelle inhaled sharply, covering her mouth with a hand. “Claire! What in the Gods’ name were you thinking?”

Claire lowered her head in shame. Not much, she had to admit, but she wouldn’t regret it: it was for a good cause. If anything, being caught and having to confess was more shaming than the act itself

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” Lucelle was close by in a flash. She would be patting her all over if they were home but there, where conveniences were to be respected, her hands hovered out of touch as her eyes roved all over her sister.

Lucelle’s urgent concern made her feel only worse. “I am fine!” She said, amused despite everything. She was always a Duke‘s daugher. It wasn‘t like they would execute her on the spot, for crying out loud. “I just got a bit of… a scolding”.

Lucelle stopped her fretting to look at her uncomprehendingly. Her eyes widened with realization.

“From Sir Cartus himself?!?”

Claire nodded with a grimace.

“Oh, Claire!” She reached for her, then paused. “Is he going to tell mother? Tell father?” She looked frightened as her gaze flickered toward the fountain with the tree. Claired followed with her own, seeing her parents sitting together under the branches. Both girls took in how their fingers were entangled, then delicay reasserted itself and they diverted their attention.

“He said he wasn’t going to”. Claire was sure their parents were too far away to listen but her voice still dropped to a whisper out of prudence. She bit her lip. “That he didn’t fault kids for being curious”. That was a lie, but the truth was so outlandish that she felt she wasn’t going too far.

She herself was still unsure what to feel about Cartus’ words. “Gallant”, he had said. Like he understood and accepted, approved even.

It was so strange.

“Oh, thank the Gods”. Lucelle breathed out in relief. “We’re lucky that sir Cartus is such a gentleman”.

“Sure”. Claire kept her tone even. To be sure, she still had her doubts.

“We can only hope he keeps his promise”, Lucelle wondered. The girl touched her cheek, radiating concern. Then, as if to make up for doubting their host’s veracity, she quickly added: “Having a housebreaking can do wonders to one’s peace of mind, i am told”.

Claire grinned. “He better be. If he tries to slander me, it’s going to be my word against his and a whole lot of trouble for him”. Accusing a Duke’s daughter of sneaking around like a thief? Now that would be a fun show to see!

“Claire!” Lucelle covered her mouth in shock. She realized to have raised her voice with a start. Then, more quietly but not any less scolding: “That’s wrong! He’s been very kind to you. The least you can do is being honest!”

Claire smiled and nodded graciously. Sweet sister! She could be caught red-handed but she was no idiot! No way she was going to admit sneaking in that mansion if she could. Cartus had his chance when he caught her, and now that chance was gone.

And the more she thought about the way he had let her go, the more she felt that it was no definitive proof of innocence. Eliminating her would have been much more troublesome. Like that, instead, he could have been attempting to prove his innocence while neatly resolving the problem at the same time. After all, what did he stand to lose? Nothing, and all to earn.

No, it wasn’t definitive proof by any stretch of the imagination, and she wasn’t going to let gratitude for what could very well be a calculated move obfuscate her judgment.

The game was still on between her and Cartus. She only needed to understand where that strange thief she had met fit into it.

“Dear sister”. Feeling in good spirits, she took her sister’s arm. “Can i count on your discretion?”

“Of course you can!” Despite her pout, Lucelle’s words rang as truthful they could be. “But i’d like for you to refrain from this kind of rash actions. Can you promise me?”

“Of course i promise you!” Claire said with a brilliant smile. She didn’t need to cross her fingers: she did so already in her mind.

Lucelle’s pout deepened, but she didn’t protest as her sister tugged her back toward the party. It was a way to keep her out of trouble at least.

For her part, Claire had had enough of intrigue for the day. Now, she would mingle and relax. Maybe even try a dance or two, surely another goblet of that good stuff her sister had found for her.

Neither noticed the attendant subtly watching them.

The young man exchanged a nod with another valet and, leaving his place to his colleague, sneaked away.

Trich waited for him behind closed doors.

“Went back to having fun, that little thief”, she grumbled, turning to Crick as the valet returned to his duties.

The male assistant looked thoughtful. “Makes sense”, he said after a moment. “After all this dust, laying low for a bit is the obvious choice”.

“And so now she’s going to eat Master’s food and have fun at Master’s party after sneaking in Master’s mansion like a thief?” Trich was incensed. “The nerve!”

Trich laughed. “Cheeky! I like it!”

Crick threw him an annoyed glance.

Trich grinned, but then turned serious. “Let’s see if something came up”.

Crick nodded, all annoyance immediately forgotten.

An officer had been set up to receive regular reports from all patrols. Trich and Crick didn’t like what he had to say: nothing found yet.

Tur tapped his foot impatiently.

In the corridor in front of him, his squad was busy controlling the umpteenth group of waiters they had stopped for questioning, the soldiers looking as bears between sheep with their heavy armors and tall bearings.

Zela looked at him and shook her head.

Tur grumbled. No stranger and no thing out of the ordinary noted, vague memory losses included. He was starting to get used to that response and the glum he felt in response.

Gesturing for his squad to follow, he stomped past the waiters.

It was his failure, no mistake about it. He was the one calling the shots when it came to security and so if someone had managed to come waltzing in and put Master’s plans in jeopardy was his fault. He accepted it with stoicism but he was going to be damned before whoever that infiltrator was managed to do some true damage.

Not on his watch, never.

He’d loved to put the mansion on lockdown and order everyone back to their stations but that was wishful thinking. Nobody had to notice that something was wrong. Master’s party had to proceed as planned. And that meant that they could only move in small groups and quickly, and they couldn’t disrupt the work. Even what they were doing then, sending word of an intruder around and then patrols to look, felt to him like they were pushing it. He really hoped that no guest noticed…

He grimaced, repressing the need to pull at the gorget covering his neck. That fancy plate armor was nice and all but he still needed to get used to it. It weighed unpleasantly on his shoulders, making him feel like a boxed sardine. Given the choice, he’d have gladly taken back his old chain mail and leathers.

Whatever. The least of his concerns.

“This little fucker is slippery”, Tad noted, caressing the hilt of the dagger thrust in her belt. The man’s usual grin had taken a dangerous quality to it.

Fret hummed a cheerful tune in answer. The girl easily twirled an arrow between her fingers. She didn’t share their commander’s determination to keep silent about discomfort, but her whining had noticeably disappeared since the start of that situation.

“I’d only like to know how he manages to remain hidden,” Sela dripped with annoyance. “You’d think we’d have found him by now”. The girl’s eyes burned, making Tur wonder if he did better to keep her back in case they found the intruder: they needed him alive after all.

“Maybe it’d be better if he got away”, Huk graveled. The big man was the image of grim calm. “We wouldn’t risk any more spells”.

Sela sputtered indignantly, but she was the only one. Even Tur couldn’t bring himself to completely disagree. Magic-resistant Ur were with each patrol, and he had given orders to try and not alarm the intruder if possible, at least until they could catch him quickly and safely. If he cast some more and some of the guests picked it up…

Tur felt a shiver run across his back. He quickened his pace.

Even so, he couldn’t just let the intruder go, not while he still was a possible danger. He’d just have to trust it and hope for the best.

“Lets go back to the center”, he said. “With some luck, there will be some good news”.

Understanding their leader’s thought, and sharing them, the warriors just nodded and followed without saying anything.

The “center” was the large room that the Gremlins had turned into their center of operation. At that moment, it was filled with officers listening to messengers making reports and perception specialists listening for any magical activity. The air was tense, everyone focused on the task at hand and very well conscious of what was at stake.

“Nothing yet, no”, a very nervous-looking officer said to Tur after he asked for any new information.

Tur bit his lip. He threw a distracted glance around. Dara sat cross-legged between the Sighters, eyes closed and expression serene. She was the only one: everybody looked as tense as strings.

Tur didn’t blame them one bit. If he wasn’t mistaken, this was actually the first time they encountered such an obstacle to the Master’s plans that they couldn’t just clobber to bits. It was only obvious for everybody to be so tense.

Or maybe he was saying that to excuse his own concern.

“It’s alright”, he said, trying to show a confidence he didn’t feel. “We’ll find him. It’s just a matter of time. There are only so many hiding places after all”.

The officer nodded, looking minutely better, and returned to his station.

“Are you sure?” Huk asked once there was only their squad to listen. “The mansion is huge. He could be anywhere”.

Tur sighed, shaking his head. “Not at all. But gotta show that the bossman knows what he’s doing, for the sake of morale”.

Huk watched him for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“So what now?”

“We wait”. Tur wished he had something else to say. “We wait and hope the guy jumps out before a disaster happens”.

He wished Master wasn’t busy with the party. Like that, it fell to him to direct the search. He was going to try his darndest best but damn if he didn’t feel the weight on his shoulders.

He huffed, trying and failing to push some of the anxiety away.

Yes, wait and hope, for the intruder to get caught, for the guests not to pick up too much, for everything to proceed smoothly.

A lot to hope for there, but it was everything he could do right now.

“Something’s wrong”.

“Mh?” Linner glanced up from the goblet he was drinking from, the fourth of the evening, to look at his friend and colleague.

Saul didn’t glance back. All of his attention was for the hall.

One of the many reasons he had risen from his lowly origins to where he now stood was that he had a special kind of intuition when it came to understanding atmospheres and people's states of mind.

And now, in the movements of the various valets, waiters and waitresses and attendants, in their expressions and the way they held themselves, he could see the unmistakable signs of growing tension. Also, there was the odd guard posted there and then that there wasn’t before. All signs that something was brewing. Some kind of ongoing problem, if he had to hazard a guess, concerning enough to warrant tension but not enough to justify disruptions to the party.

“Something’s wrong”, he repeated for Linner’s sake.

His friend blinked, then followed his gaze with his own.

“What do you mean?”

Saul hummed, without answering.

He looked toward the hot potato of the evening. The Bishop stood still among his entourage, his wrinkled face wearing an expression that was a mix between annoyance and focus, like a hound that had, for a moment, found a promising scent and was now busy trying to finding it back.

Saul took a sip from his drink. Magic? Is it actually happening?

He grinned as a thrill ran across his back at the thought of something like that actually happening, with all those people present, with that damn hound being present.

What an explosive combination…

He felt a glimmer of piety for Cartus. The old man did better to put straight whatever was going on and do it quickly. Otherwise, that evening would mark the beginning of a holy war, apart from passing into history as one of the greatest fiascoes in party history.

Almost as evoked by that thought, the old man himself made his appearance. Many guests were delighted to have him back in their company, eager to hear more from their charming host. Others, more than before, Saul noticed, exchanged cautious looks. The Bishop made his own group: the gaze with which he pinned Cartus’ tall figure was as piercing and grim as an iron blade.

“Oh, dear…” Saul drowned a dark chuckle in his drink. Honestly, he could barely picture the end result if magic was discovered there and then. What he could foresee, though, was pretty entertaining, he had to admit. He wouldn’t mind seeing it.

“I know that expression”, Linner said with a grin. He was used to not receiving answers from his friend. “You just thought of something devious, didn’t you?”

Saul gave him a lazy grin. “Why, perish the thought. I couldn’t imagine that this pleasant evening could end into fiery outbursts”.

Linner’s eyes gleamed with eagerness. “Tell me”.

Saul did just so, sharing his considerations with his friend.

“This is not working”.

Tur didn’t need to look at his soldiers’ expressions to know that they agreed with him. They had been combing the mansion up and down with no result for hours now, and it was clear that they weren’t going to obtain results without ramping up the search. Since that couldn’t be done, some new ways needed to be found.

“Alright, let’s brainstorm”. Tur gestured for his squad and the other officers to come closer and listen. There was a map of the mansion splayed on the table in front of him. “We didn’t find him by combing the place and questioning everybody, and we can’t rustle the place more than this. Anyone has any idea?”

Looking over his soldiers’ expressions, Tur saw the difference. His squad, veterans by then, looked trusting and ready to face the challenge. The other officers, well, very less so.

“Come on, men!” He slammed a fist on his palm. “We can do this! There’s only one fucker and look at how many there are of us. If we put our heads together, there’s no way he’s going to escape us. So give me your ideas and let’s put this thing to rest, for the Master”.

He avoided mentioning that their numbers were as much a problem as an advantage in that situation, and they didn’t seem to have helped them until then.

The officers, though, seemed encouraged by his words, nodding and standing a bit taller.

Tur nodded, secretly pleased. He folded his arms before his chest. “So, we’ve been combing the workers without any result. What does that mean?”

“He ditched his disguise?” Fret helpfully chimed in.

“Yeah, most likely”. Honestly, Tur wondered how he hadn’t thought about that before. It only made sense. Good time lost. “Where does that leave us?”

“Without a disguise, he cannot move freely”, Sela noted, frowning down at the map. “So now he’s hiding… or he got another disguise”.

The eventuality set everyone thinking. Another disguise? They had problems with the one he had before. With another…

“Wait wait wait”. Tad put up his hands. “There are only so many disguises he can take”. The man started to count off his fingers. “A guard? No can do. Those never walk alone. A waiter? He ditched that. A cook? No way. That leaves only one chance: a guest”.

Tur nodded slowly. “And it would be easy enough to pull off. He’d only need to ditch his old disguise and take up his clothes… if he was a guest to begin with”.

It was a chance, everybody knew. There was a mass of people at Master’s party: one could have slipped away and back.

“Well, if that’s the case, problem solved”. Tur shrugged. “Just redouble the guard wherever guests could scamper off to. If he pulled it off once, he wouldn’t be able to do it twice. Make it happen”.

The officer he had given the order to saluted, turned and bolted away to give out the orders.

“We’re still taking a gamble, chief”, Sela pointed out. “That he’s a guest. "He could very well be an infiltrator from the outside”.

Tur nodded reluctantly, grumbling. The possibility tickled him as well, and his instinct told him that it couldn’t be so simple.

What other path could they follow?

He frowned at the map. The mansion was a maze. If the infiltrator wanted to hide, there was no finding him unless he came out or they got some incredible stroke of luck. In that case, they’d just have to keep security up and hope to catch him when he decided to sneak away. Or maybe he was somewhere else, somewhere they had overlooked, under some type of disguise they hadn’t thought about.

“Maybe he escaped…” He mumbled, scratching his head. That was a possibility as well, but, like the guest chance, it made his instinct turn in protest.

Stumped, he turned at Huk, a question in his eyes.

The big man was watching the map, his face an expressionless mask, his hands folded in front of the large chest.

“Many options,” he graveled. “Too many. And spread over a too large area. We should change our approach. Narrow the options we need to explore”.

Tur frowned, thinking over it. After a few moments, it hit him.

“Master said that this thief cannot overcome more than one person at the time,” he eagerly said. “That means that if he’s a guest, he could have snuck in easily since we have less security toward those. And we already confirmed that the option is safe. But, if he’s an outsider, there are only so many places he could have entered from, since our security is much tighter toward outside infiltrations. So,” he splayed his hands on the table, watching all present, “let’s say that he used his powers to get in. Where are the places where he needed to overcome only one of us?”

His warriors exchanged glances before turning to a few of the officers: they were the ones that took care of the organization of the workers.

One of them, Tur knew him as Asur, a second-generation Gremlin, spoke for them all.

“As per Master’s instructions, we try to avoid, and when we can’t do that, minimize the time when the workers move alone”. He paused, throwing a slightly concerned glance toward Tur. The man nodded with an encouraging smile.

Putting his wariness aside, Anur leaned over the table.

“There are only a few points where an infiltrator with that kind of powers could have entered,” he said. Quickly, he pointed to a few places on the map. “Here, here and here. It’s where the workers come out to throw away the remains from the kitchens. Those are the only moments when you can catch one alone”. He drew back, looking at Tur with a dispirited expression. It was only obvious that he blamed himself for the situation but didn’t dare to voice it.

Tur nodded with an encouraging smile. “Don’t blame yourself. Nobody could have foreseen a guy like that coming at us”.

The officer nodded but didn’t look any better.

“Shall we send soldiers to control those exits, commander?”

“Yeah,” Tur replied. No time to soothe bruised egos. “Make them search in the areas close by. If the man is an outsider, he could have left some traces, and maybe he took the same route to escape”.

His orders were carried out quickly, officers scampering away to send out patrols.

They waited for what felt like hours while the searches were done.

Tur paced restlessly around the room, much of the certainty he had felt before having drained away. He felt like he was grasping at straw, following vague traces that could very well end in nothing. After all, who said that the intruder had to be an outsider? He could very well be a well-dressed fop; maybe now he was merrily drinking and partying while they raked their brains. Or maybe there were some other crazy mind-powers and all his reasoning was flawed from the start. Or who knew what else.

The trust that his squad was offering, waiting patiently and confidently, didn’t feel deserved at all. If anything, it only made him feel more insecure.

The only silver lining was Dara: the woman’s silent presence reassured him somewhat.

She had to feel his attention on her because she opened her eyes and smiled at him. Tur nodded and put up a strained grin.

Eventually, reports started to trickle in. And with them, came the words Tur didn’t even hope to hear.

“We found something”.

The backyard was small and secluded, little more than an overgrown spot contained between walls. Part of the shrubbery had been removed and a hole had been dug in the ground; small bones and other gristle littered its bottom, the servants using it to dump kitchen refuse into it.

The scouts were riffling through the tall grass when Tur and his squad arrived. They instantly jumped at attention and their chief, a big guy in leather armor wearing a big smile, came forward to meet the newcomers.

“So?” Tur barely managed to keep his voice even.

Grinning, the scout chief led him into the grass. There, carefully kept untouched by the scouts, a clear trail had been left, traced by trampled plants and heavy footprints in the mud where the ground was bare.

“The kitchen workers had been washing their pots here”, the scout explained. “So the ground was nice and wet. The footprints are clear as day”.

Excited by the discovery, Tur was barely listening. “Do they continue?”

The scout grinned and gestured for him to follow. He led him beyond a door through the walls. Outside, the hill sloped down in a sea of tall grass. Scouts dotted the sloped, crouching down and surveilling the ground.

As he led them down the incline, the scout pointed at the traces: footprints, but mostly trampled grass, broken shrubbery and thrown leaves. Tur was impressed. Without the scout pointing them out, he wouldn’t have noticed the trail.

“There have been some attempts at masquerading the trail”. The scout was practically beaming. “But it’s all sloppy handiwork. My guys picked it up right away”.

“Does it continue?”

“Yes. Down to the forest. My boys are following it as we speak”.

Tur wetted his lips. There it was. The trail they needed.

“Well done,” he said earnestly. “You and your scouts have exceded yourself. The Master will be pleased”.

The chief scout grinned widely, looking as someone had just told him he had become a father.

Tur grinned briefly, then turned serious.

“Let’s go”.

“We don’t wait for reinforcements, chief?”

“No time, and anyway we can’t take many away from surveilling the mansion. Just send words for a couple of squads to follow. I and my squad are going now”.

“Yes, chief!”

The trail led them down the incline, across a grassy field and into the forest. Thankfully for Tur‘s tension, the trail never stopped. If anything, once they passed under the trees, broken twigs and branches only added to it.

“He must have been running like hell”, Sela commented as they made their way through the foliage. The woman held an axe in hand while she brushed branches aside with the other.

Tur grunted, too focused and hoping to speak. Thankfully, the light of the moon was enough for their vision.

They soon came up a group of scouts crouching behind trees. One of them motioned for them to be silent, then gestured forward.

Making sure not to make a noise, Tur pushed himself against a tree and peeked beyond.

The forest opened in a small clearing. Someone had built a little tent right at the center of it, using some canvas and a bunch of sticks. A small bundle of clothes piled up inside. A small fire crackled in front of the makeshift refuge. On the other side of the clearing, a hunting trail disappeared into the forest.

Tur exchanged looks with his team. They nodded. The thief was close by.

Tur gave a series of hand signals, ordering his squad to scatter around the clearing. They would wait and as soon as the thief returned, they would surround and capture him. His warriors executed his orders quickly and efficiently, and soon they formed a rough circle around the place, each soldier waiting motionless among the bushes.

They didn’t need to wait much.

A series of crackles resounded from one side of the clearing. The thief stepped out of the trees a moment later.

Crouching into a hollow of a tree, Tur watched him intently.

Despite being plain-looking, both the infiltrator’s shirt and pants looked what a noble would wear, woven out of satin rather than the rougher cloth used by the peasants. A large scarf, and the gloom, obscured his face, leaving out a ruffled mop of dark hair. Tur thought the thief was muttering something, but he couldn’t hear what exactly.

Whatever.

The thief advanced into the clearing, hand irritably struggling to button up his sleeve. Tur followed him with his gaze. His muscles tensed. As soon as he reached the tent…

He had no idea what tipped the man off.

The thief suddenly stopped. Slowly, he looked around. Then, he turned and bolted.

Tur cried out in alarm and jumped out of his hiding spot. He didn’t stop to see his warriors following his example, crashing through the shrubbery and on open ground with warcries on their lips. He took off in a run.

The thief was fast, having disappeared into the hunting trail by the time he got there. Tur plunged into the trees without slowing down.

The trail had barely enough space for him to run, tall grass smacking against his sides, and the armor weighed heavily, but he was strong and fast and he was going to be damned before letting that little minx escape. In the dark, even with his good night vision, he could barely see where he was going. He expected to trip at any moment in a root or a stone. Miraculously, it didn’t happen.

Instead, after a few seconds of furious running, he caught up with the thief. The man was a flailing figure in front of him.

Tur put up a burst of speed and threw out a hand, grabbing him by the shoulder.

Pushed by his own momentum, the man whirled around. Tur saw an eye, black and filled with shock and impossibly well-defined despite the speed of the moment. His thoughts jumbled together like a pile of blocks coming down all at once. He flailed, both with his mind and with his limbs, but everything tilted and the ground came running toward him. Then he was falling falling falling…

He came back to someone screaming in his face.

Slowly, he blinked. His head felt like it was filled with murk. He shook it, working his jaw.

Ever so slowly, the world retook its contours, and he recognized that the angry face screaming at him belonged to Sela.

“Calm down, will ya?” He slurred. Talking felt difficult as if something had gotten loose in his face. “I am not deaf yet”.

Sela’s eyes widened, then her expression turned so supremely happy that Tur would have asked what the occasion was if he could.

“He’s fine! He’s fine!” Fret shouted from somewhere he couldn’t see.

As his squad shouted their relief all around him, Tur looked at the scarf he was still clutching.

As he was told, the thief had taken the time he passed unconsciously to slip away, a horse held nearby carrying him out of their grasp The rest of his squad had fumbled into the dark too long to stop him, eventually finding their leader motionless and unresponsive.

“You gave us a good scare, chief!” Tad said, grin barely hiding the relief he felt.

“He’s fine!” Fret kept chanting, holding at Tur like she feared he could fly away.

Sela just nodded quickly, like if she didn’t trust her voice at that moment.

Huk was the only one without a full smile, but there wasn’t a need. Everything was in his eyes.

“Alright alright, calm down now”. Laughing despite himself, Tur decided that it was enough. The dizziness was steadily passing and, as it did, more grim duties awaited. “Let us inform the Master, alright?”

He sighed. This was the second time he allowed a prize target to escape him. He really hoped Master would be merciful. He wasn’t sure he would be in his place.

Gorren received the news while he was about to step back into the party.

“So they found him…” He mused calmly, a hand leaning against the door. From beyond the wooden surface, the sounds of the party arrived, slightly muted. “More than i expected. This thief was sloppy”.

A personal initiative? It seemed likely. Maybe this mind mage had slipped off his masters’ leash to try this?

I’ll need to piece it together with what i can extract from the Crofford child.

As he thought that, his gaze strayed to Trich’s petulant expression.

“You have something to say”.

The girl didn’t need to be told twice. “The performance of the soldiers wasn’t great, Master”. She was angry and outraged that Tur had managed to make the thief slip through his fingers. “Shall i administer some kind of punishment?”

Gorren noted her zeal.

“No need,” he rumbled. “They did enough by chasing him away. Now the party can continue as scheduled”. He gestured to Crick, that had been listening with some concern. “Have the word pass around: the problem has been resolved”.

With that said, he made to step through the door. A thought occurred to him though, making him pause.

“One last thing”, he said. “Have Tur know that he did good enough as it is. That mind mage could have shattered his mind with some more time. In fact, there could be scars left as it is. Have him report to me after this mess is over”.

With that, he stepped back into the party, to the waiting crowd of guests.