As Malia paced the grounds of the Hesling Estate in the early morning light, one thought repeated itself endlessly in her mind: This has to be the most boring job in the city. The gardens that Lady Hesling cultivated were lovely, but it hardly seemed worth the effort to station two guards on the grounds specifically to preserve what amounted to a vanity project. Who in their right mind would try to steal…

A shout echoed from around the hedges, breaking her train of thought. For a moment, guilt made her hesitate, as if her silent litany brought a calamity down upon her fellow guard. Her training reasserted itself, however, and her feet began to carry her towards the source of the commotion. She found herself flying through a patch of flowers in her haste, flinching slightly as she left a trail of flattened flowers in her wake. I just know those are coming out of my pay. 

It took her a few seconds to reach the area she heard the shout from, and in that time she could already see a figure agiley climbing the nearby fence, his feet seeming to find purchase in the air as often as not. That spoke to wind or force attunement, she’d have to keep an eye on them to gauge which. As the figure reached the street on the other side, her attention snapped to the pursuing guard scrambling to keep up. Demaric, you idiot. Why would you wear chainmail in the garden. She could practically hear the rattling of the links as he heaved himself over the fence, landing roughly on the cobblestones before continuing pursuit.

She began focusing on a spot just before the gate, quickly judging angles and timing. Her runic fractal formed in her mind, tracing down paths earth external lift up and a section of the ground lifted just as her weight came to rest on it. She found herself flying through the air, as the fractal shifted paths in her mind earth internal strengthen against to reinforce herself as her feet hit the street. She stumbled slightly, but managed to keep most of her forward momentum in the process.

The cloaked figure turned back, taking in the two pursuing guards. She caught a flash of a face in the darkened hood, but his head whipped forward again before she could note more than vague masculine features. She caught up to Demaric just as the cloaked figure picked up speed, cloak billowing behind him.

With the early morning, the streets were still relatively clear, mostly working-class folk with work to be about. This was a minor blessing, as it meant that they could pursue without worrying about being slowed by the crowds. Several passersby stopped what they were doing to gawk at the scene, apparently not so engrossed in work as to miss a free show.

Ahead, the road opened up into a plaza, and beyond that was a bridge over the Stelen River leading away from the Noble District. Already, she could feel her legs beginning to burn, and her breathing was beginning to flag. If she could avoid the warren of streets and alleys that made up the Merchant’s District ahead, it would save this from becoming a true nightmare. Perhaps she had been slacking on her endurance training just a bit.

“Demaric,” she huffed out, trying to keep her legs pumping, “stop him from crossing. No way I’m going to risk damaging that bridge.”

Demaric glanced at her and nodded, his steps slowing slightly as he stared ahead at the fleeing figure. Amateur, keep yourself moving. Smoke began to billow from his cloak, starting slowly before a flame burst near the center. Malia felt her eyes bulge slightly as she turned to her companion.

“You idiot, are you trying to kill him? I meant you should put up a wall to block his path, or do a burst to distract him. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Demaric seemed to shrink into himself under the verbal lashing, slowing his pace to match hers. He glanced her way, a defiant look in his eyes. His shoulders rolled back, and he spoke with more than a hint of defensiveness.

“If you wanted something specific, you should have said something, or done it yourself. Besides, when a person runs that hard, they’re up to more than trespassing.”

She shook her head, determined to revisit this somewhere other than the middle of a steadily filling plaza. This was no way to behave as a professional. The cloaked figure had dropped to the ground just a few steps onto the bridge, rolling wildly to try to put out the flames. As they approached within a few feet, he seemed to finally get the last of them out, settling on the ground with a sigh. Somehow, his hood had remained up through the process, still hiding his features.

Demaric reached the man first, stooping down to grab the man by the arm. Suddenly, the cloaked figure rolled past Demaric, drawing closer to her. He spun his head, reaching one arm out towards Demaric as the other braced on the ground. A burst of wind erupted from his palm, heaving Demaric off his feet and over the railing.

Oh, I guess it’s wind after all.

She stared bemusedly at the tableau, her brain struggling to catch up to what had just happened. The splash coming from the river finally jarred her startled brain awake, but by then the cloaked figure was already on the move again. She dashed to the rail, relieved to see that somehow Demaric was making his way to the shore despite that damn chainmail. Maybe this will convince him to wear something more practical.

She continued the chase, somehow managing to keep pace with the fleeing figure. The man seemed to have slowed down, so maybe Demaric’s fire had done something to help after all. Not that she was willing to let it slide. The figure man gave one more glance behind him, and turned suddenly into an alley ahead.

Malia pivoted down the alley, feet slamming against the uneven cobblestone. The cool morning air seemed to drag her back, warring with her gambeson for biggest hindrance in this chase. Ahead of her, the cloaked figure seemed to glide across the ground, feet barely touching the ground.

Damn wind attunements. I’m never going to catch him playing fair.

Looking further down the alley, she saw her chance as the alley turned sharply to the right a small distance ahead. With an effort of will, pushed away thoughts of her labored breathing and burning legs, instead focusing on the corner of the building ahead Her runic fractal solidified in her mind, power tracing from the earthen core, to external lift across in a chain she had long since mastered. The stone seemed to resist slightly, as the chain didn’t quite fit the action, but her will managed to bring the concept to bear.

As the man rounded the corner, a chunk of the building extended, catching the fleeing stranger across the shins and sending him stumbling to the ground with a cry of pain. It took her barely a second to catch up, but already she could see the wind gathering beneath him to push him forward once more.

Can’t have that she thought, a burst of adrenaline pushing her forward as she finally closed with her quarry. Once again, her fractal formed in her mind, tracing down a different path. Earth external grab down towards the stone the man’s hand rested on, dragging his arm into the street. With his arm now acting as a fulcrum, his chin slammed down with enough force to stun him, and she took the opportunity to grab his other arm.

“Was that really worth all the effort,” Malia gasped, glad to finally get a chance to catch her breath. “You could have just stopped on the manor grounds, I would still be in a good mood, and you wouldn’t be covered in bruises.”

A small laugh behind her spiked her adrenaline once again, and she spun with her hands raised and ready to deflect a blow, but her thoughts were too scattered and racing to properly form a fractal. Shit, how could I have been so careless as to let someone lead me down a blind alley alone. Damn Demaric for letting himself be blown into a river.

Her mind froze as she finally registered who was behind her. A middle aged man with decidedly average features leaned casually against a wall, hands in his pockets and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and crinkling the edges of his dark eyes. If she hadn’t known better, she would have assumed he had been standing there this entire time watching the scene play out for his amusement. Her eyes darted past him to the alley’s entrance, and then to her left to the alley’s exit. No one around, thank the gods.

“Calimir, what in the hells do you think you’re playing at? Is he one of your men?”

The man slowly pushed himself off the walls, lightly brushing his coat before turning his attention back to her. Behind her, she could hear the cloaked figure stirring and begin trying to free his arms.

“After that poor display on Caspien’s part, I’m almost reluctant to claim him. But yes, he’s one of mine. I was hoping we could have a brief chat.”

She let out a huff of frustration, her body shaking as it attempted to adapt to the sudden lack of immediate threat. Physical threat anyways.

“We have a system damn it. You leave a message, we meet on my off time, and we don’t do anything risky. That was what I agreed to when we came to this arrangement. I’m no good to the cause if I’m dead.”

“An arrangement that has been sufficient so far, but has a few flaws...” He paused as he noticed her attention drifting to twin entrances to the alley. “Please, do you think I would be having this conversation if we weren’t secure? But I suppose I do see your point. If you could release Caspien and fix the wall, the door behind you leads into one of our properties.”

She looked towards the door to which he gestured, just now noticing that it was slightly ajar. A frown formed on her face, but she began the work of smoothing the stone.

“So what, he was always supposed to lead me to this alley? What if I had caught him first? What if Demaric had still been with me? I’m telling you, I did not sign on for this kind of sloppy crap.”

Caspien stood with a groan, hobbling slightly and rubbing at his chin. She caught her first solid glance of him as he pulled his hood back, rough features at odds with the delicate way he checked himself over. He shot her a sour look before opening the door and stepping inside, gesturing for the remaining two to enter the building.

Calamir held his silence as they walked in. A small torch engraved with a fractal pattern rested in a sconce right inside the wall. She watched as he lifted it up, focusing on the fractal for the moment it took to fix in his mind, and suddenly the ball on the end began emitting a steady light. The sudden glow revealed a short hallway leading to another door, which they made their way down without further ado. 

The chipping paint and faint musty odor spoke to a place seldom used and rarely cared for, but the construction appeared solid and the door opened without a sound as they entered an undecorated room dominated by a table with 3 plush chairs. She looked around for some signs that someone had lived here, but the room lacked any kind of furnishings beyond the seating, and she couldn’t spot any signs that decorations ever adorned the walls.

Calamir made his way to another sconce, taking a moment to refresh the torch to full strength before placing it. He made his way to the chair at the head of the table, dropping into it with a soft sigh of air from the cushions. Caspien made his way to another, sitting much more gingerly, and Malia gingerly approached the third. Despite her misgivings, the chair appeared to be well cared for, and the musty odor seemed to be absent from the fabric. She carefully sat on the edge, not letting herself get too comfortable.

With a sigh, Calamir turned his attention back to her, continuing to lounge in the chair.

“Now that we can afford to take our time with this conversation, please let me assuage your worries. I promise despite appearances, the situation was well in hand. If Caspien had been caught on the grounds, he had a letter from a potential suitor begging him for flowers from Lord Hesling’s gardens. He may have had a slap on the wrist, but he would have been free within the day and I would call this experiment a loss. If Caspien had been unable to… distract Demaric, he would never have gone near the alley, and instead would have taken to the roofs. Again, we’d call this a wash.”

Calamir turned to Caspien, a look of disapproval on his face.

“Really though Caspien, the river? Couldn’t you have done something a little less drastic? Malia does have to work with the man, and I doubt he’s going to let it go as easily after that.”

Caspien smiled, the first time she had seen him as anything but sour or stunned.

“Honestly, the river seemed like the fastest way to shake him. Also, he tried to set my cloak on fire. Who does that?”

Malia flinched slightly at that, a little ashamed that Demaric had taken to that extreme. The man could be a little overzealous at times.

Calamir shrugged, before turning his attention back to her.

“Well, anyways, as I was saying. This wasn’t nearly as risky as it looked, and it gave us an opportunity to probe the defenses under controlled circumstances, have a conversation with you, and demonstrate a glaring flaw in our current operations.”

He paused expectantly, and she stared at him a moment before rolling her eyes at his inflated sense of drama.

“What flaw is that?”

He smiled slightly, satisfied with the interplay.

“Having someone working alone is dangerous. You’re the only person we have at Lord Hesling’s, and that needs to change. It’s a risk for you, a risk for us, limits what we can get done, and slows down the cause. I don’t suppose you could get Caspien a job as a guard or a gardener or some such?”

Her brow furrowed as she looked between Calamir and Caspien, unsure of how to react. Caspien had an affronted look at the mention of gardening, and began spluttering about his dignity while Malia tried to organize her thoughts.

Someone to work with wasn’t a bad call, and would allow her more freedom to act in the manor. Currently, she was limited in scope as she had to act in complete solitude, and with utmost care so nothing could be traced back to her. So far, that meant being limited to sneaking out limited information on political intrigue, and tracings from a few books. Considering the months she’d had to work with, it was a dismal showing though. Caspien though…

“I think Caspien would be a mistake. He’s too old, and they’d want an employment background on anyone they brought into the manor. I’m assuming he wouldn’t pass any aimed scrutiny towards his history as a guard or gardener?”

Calamir looked to Caspien, who was shaking his head with barely concealed relief. She was glad she didn’t have to bring up her next point. The kind of person willing to throw a person off a bridge to distract him wasn’t really the type of person she was ready to trust with subtle work. His attitude so far had also left something to desire, although she might be partially to blame given the head trauma.

“If you could send someone younger to apply, and have them send me a sign, I might be able to work with that. I’m not opposed to the idea, but we need to be smart and safe, and we’re not in a rush here. Societal change takes time, and a careful hand to keep clean.”

Calamir nodded slightly, a thoughtful look on his face. He seemed to unconsciously straighten up as he thought, losing the affectation of levity.

“Yes, that could work. Some young blood in a position to grow into the job, with the right ideals, could go a long way. You’re wrong though, time may not be on our side. I’m not sure what it is, but something is going on behind the scenes. Too many whispers, too many players making strange moves. We may need to act sooner than you think.”

She watched him, waiting for him to go on, but he continued to stare at the table, seemingly lost in thought.

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I need to get back to my shift. It’s already going to look bad enough that I didn’t manage to catch the intruder.”

Calamir looked up, his face slipping into a more jovial expression.

“Well, we can help with that at least. Caspien, go ahead and give her your cloak, that should at least give her something to show for her troubles. Please do mention to Lord Hesling where the scorch marks came from, that level of aggression simply won’t do in a civilized society. Let’s say follow our normal protocols, and I’ll speak to you in a couple of weeks? Hopefully by then, we’ll have a more solid plan going forward.”

She reached forward, taking the cloak from Caspien. The scorch marks were evident on the bottom, even against the dark fabric. She felt something in an inner pocket, and was surprised to find a bundle of flowers and the previously mentioned note. Maybe this won’t be such a hard sell.

Calamir and Caspien remained seated as she stood and made her way back down the hallway to the alley. She slowly made her way back towards the Healing Manor, her thoughts tumbled with her emotions, unsure of what the future held.

A new partner, huh. I wonder what this “young blood” will do to my life.