Gravel and loose stones being crushed underneath the wheels was the only sound as the book in the woman’s hand kept her entertained while the view of the vast fields and small villages on the horizon held the attention of the azure haired man. The evening sun cast a beautiful orange glow, setting a melancholy undertone.

As the hours dragged on, the inn that they were planning on staying at in Chippenham slowly came into view. It’s name - Angel Inn - was proudly displayed on a large sign over the old but solid wooden door. As the two passengers and the young driver walked in they were greeted with a thick aroma of alcohol and cooked food.

“Good evening Madame.”

“Evening Sir. Are you looking for a room.”

She eyed the two women warily.

“Two rooms please, one a double for my wife and me, the other a single, for my driver.”

The lady at the counter nodded respectfully.

“Here, two rooms, one double, one single. That’ll be 4 pence, please.

Beau handed the lady the money in exchange for the keys and went upstairs, not before shooting a glance at the piano that was sitting unoccupied on a slightly raised platform.

“Can you play, Sir?”

“Ah, oh, yes.”

“I see! Would you like to play for us later?”

“No, I’d bet-”

“Yes! Yes, he will play later, what time?”

“Around 9 o’clock, how does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, see you there.”

After Watson masterfully interrupted Beau’s conversation she booked him a gig.

His eyes rolled at his wife’s antics.

“Why?”

“I want to hear you play, lovely, will you not play for me?”

“I’d rather do it in private.”

“Just pretend it is!”

“If you say so.”

After a quick change of clothes into more casual wear, they headed downstairs. Beau had prepared himself mentally. For him, a piano was irreplaceable, especially throughout the 4 years of Creed hunting. The music gave him a medium to pour out his sorrow, anger, and grief. He often got completely lost in it. Seeing as he didn’t own a piano, he had to play in inns or private parties as a hired musician. There had been a few incidents where the music had brought the room to tears. If this was to be his first time playing in front of Watson, he would do his best to make this one of those times.

As he sat at the piano, a couple of people that were dining or drinking turned their heads but none were particularly interested. No doubt they had not had many good pianists at this establishment.

After going through the motions of preparation and making sure the piano was tuned correctly, he hesitantly played a short song. It was slightly difficult for a normal player and Beau made sure to ace it. He usually closed his eyes when he played, it helped him feel the emotion required to really connect with the piece he was playing.

After the first song, he seamlessly moved on to a different one, not giving the audience a chance to applaud. By this time everyone’s attention was on the mysterious pianist. Watson and the driver were at the front. She was already lost in the music and watching Beau’s face and hands as they skipped over the keys. At the moment the music was calming but filled with desolate woe. It was the calm before the storm. Preparing the audience for an adventure of countless emotions. The song, The Meeting of the Waters way played with unbelievable accuracy and with each note played the audience fell further and further into the world Beau had created for them. The song was not especially sad, it was a song about new beginnings and opportunities, unlimited potential alongside a deep sense of foreboding.

The song ended and a chorus of applause flooded the room.

Before they became too detached, Beau started again. Only after taking a brief glance at Watson, which, he hoped, communicated all the emotions he was currently feeling. Although, it was probably not the case.

His fingers started moving again, this time at a slightly quicker pace. His mind was on the 6-year journey, all the ups and downs that went along with it. There were moments of contentment and bliss when his family was still alive, and moving away from home and starting his life on his own. The notes chimed and rang together, the slightly quicker pace and the mood of the room was lifted slightly.

That was before a crescendo of sound and a flourish of the hand, bringing the song suddenly to a darker side. The sudden change of pacing and tone let the audience know of the collapse that had occurred. The reality coming crashing down. What followed was dark and miserable, the audience were no doubt reminded of whatever hardships they have gone through in the past.

The mood did not change, only getting worse, deep mournful sadness exuded from the piano and the man playing it. Tears starting to fall down his face, which caused a chain reaction, starting with Watson and their 17-year-old driver, the sobs that they let out brought the people behind them to tears and so on. Eventually, even the older men were choking, trying to hold back a waterfall of emotions.

The song finished with Beau’s meeting with Watson, the darkness, and sadness in the song was slowly purified by a higher and lighter tone, the high notes splitting the low ones like a knife through butter. Eventually, after all was said and done, the song finished. No one spoke, there was only silence for minutes. Beau himself was looking at the piano blankly, trying to rid his face of the tears that were falling just seconds ago.

Eventually, he stood up and left the stage, grabbing Watson’s hand along the way who was similarly trying to clean up her face after bawling her eyes out.

As the audience saw him leaving the stage they started their applause. No one trusted their voices to work properly at this moment so there were no shouts or whoops.

The poor driver stumbled back to her room crying her eyes out for another hour or so.

As soon as they arrived in the hotel room Watson attacked Beau with a frighteningly powerful hug.

“You should have told me.” She said, he voice was raspy and cracked slightly thanks to the continuous crying.

“You wouldn’t have listened.”

She wiped the residual tears off his face and kissed each of his eyes. He did the same but without the kisses.

They fell asleep that night with each of their bodies glued together in an embrace that neither of them would mind if it lasted forever.

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After a rocky morning and no lack of stares from the other patrons, they started their journey again. Beau was in no mood for any interruptions and was mostly silent apart from brief conversations with Watson.

Their journey was marvelously interrupted at such a volatile time by highwaymen, or more commonly known as bandits or thieves. No doubt raring to go after seeing a such a luscious cart with such a large trunk. The driver being such a pretty looking young girl just made it more enticing. They considered themselves lucky; how wrong they were.

Highwaymen were less common, especially after the introduction of the MCR. They were forced to be very careful when choosing their targets. They would also only be confident in their siege if they had a magician. It was also thanks to magicians that they were able to keep up their thieving ways.

They were able to take on any foot soldier or knight with ease, so when faced with a carriage that had no magician bodyguard and the passengers weren’t either (Watson was also wearing one of Beau’s rings), they took this as a chance given to them by the gods. The non-mage on horseback rode to the middle of the road.

“Stand and deliver your goods, money and the woman driver.”

Beau raised his head at the declaration, he could see the man in front and could feel the magician in the distance, maybe there were a couple more, of that he was not sure.

His first reaction was to step out of the vehicle. After seeing the frighteningly blue hair the magician was taken aback, but, still not sensing any mana, he relaxed.

“I refuse, leave the road if you want to keep your life.”

Beau was willing to give them one chance, but no more than that.

The man on horseback laughed and after drawing a very shoddy spear, charged at Beau. He was on a horse so he rightly assumed he had the advantage.

That would be the case if Beau was not a magician.

Beau allowed for the man to come close, not wanting to reveal his magic capabilities so early so that he could deal with the magician at the back. He summoned a knife inside his coat to make it look like he was drawing it from a scabbard.

The man grinned at the sight of the insignificant weapon and thrust the spear towards Beau.

It was dodged, Beau slipping underneath the spear turned and waited for the next attack, the horse reared around and charged again. With the man brandishing his spear, Beau’s only choice going forward was to get the man off the horse. After dodging the second spear thrust he moved to the back of the horse and sliced its hind leg. The horse was no longer able to walk, he could heal it after the fight so that it would not die.

The man jumped off the horse for a one on one fight, still confident in his skills.

Beau made short work of the man, after dodging the first spear thrust he closed the distance quickly, before giving the man a chance to drag the spear back he sliced his throat, leaving the man a gurgling mess on the floor.

The magician waiting at the side was also confident in his friend's victory and was not able to act quickly enough to stop his death.

The magician charged forward with 4 summoned spikes. He thrust them all forward to pierce Beau like a human pincushion. Unfortunately for him, Beau was waiting for exactly this and before the spiked could get anywhere near him, the bandit magician was burnt to a crisp.

Beau entered the cart again, urging the driver forward before the smell of the 2 dead bodies could taint their noses.

The driver was happy to flick the reins and get moving. Beau, with some of his stress gone from the piano extravaganza yesterday, happily lay on Watson’s lap, who had barely looked up from her book the whole time.

The driver, on the other hand, had her mouth open wide, she would not have guessed in a million years that he was such a powerful magician.

She had been nervous at first, the couple was lovely and treated her very well, even paying for her accommodation during the journey and regularly checking up on her.

Now that she knew she was safe as well, she finally relaxed into the chair. A soft smile appearing on her face. She was happy just to stay silent and listen to the couple’s conversations, they were all so interesting.

The journey continued with no more rude interruptions or emotional musical intervals. The days turned into the night then back again, with Reading on the horizon they were wary. There were 2 more days till the brainwashing of the Queen so, after sorting out accommodation for the driver for the next week, Watson and Beau traveled to find somewhere to stay on their own. After finally coming across a more high-class inn, they booked a room. It was also, on purpose, very close to the Queen’s residence.

Reading was just a town, tiny in comparison to London, but was very important geographically, not only was it on the River Thames, but it was also a great place to travel from, meaning it was close to almost everywhere of importance, excluding the North.

The Queen was to stay there for a while before coming to Bath, where she was needed on Royal business, not something a commoner like Beau would have any interest in.

The next order of business was to cleanse Reading of the Creed.

Beau had a few good leads that he had gathered over his 4 years of hunting. So they had a lot of places to start. They decided to go about it separately, Watson decided to craft a mask identical to Beau’s so that she could go about her business anonymously.

Watson’s first target was a noble woman. She and her husband owned several large businesses in Reading, and, whilst he was no saint, he was not part of the Creed. For that reason, Watson opted to catch the Creed woman alone. The perfect opportunity arrived after a few hours of waiting in the gardens of the house.

Watson had initially hoped that the woman would go to the bathroom or something similar allowing for a through the window kill.

What really happened was a lot better, the woman walked into the large, open garden of her own accord.

Seeing as Watson was a registered magician she was not able to use magic openly. For that reason, she had one of Beau’s guns. Her magic was not released into the air because it was injected straight into the magic circle, and the bullets were made by Beau not her. Which meant the only lead would connect it to the rogue magician, which would definitely be more believable than the head of MCR Bath being involved.

With the woman outside, Watson’s job was made a lot easier. Due to the lack of gunpowder, the gun was silent. The woman dropped dead with a hole straight through her head.

Watson had hesitated as this would be her first time assassinating someone, however, it was quickly suppressed when she reminded herself of the atrocities and immoral deeds, she pulled the trigger mercilessly. After the woman was found, Watson invaded the house, quickly taking a look around the study. The husband and servants were too busy with the dead body to notice an intruder.

After finding some interesting things Watson left out a window, untraceable and silent. If Beau was watching there was no way he would believe that it was her first time doing such a thing.

Of course, sneaking around was also part of the job of a policewoman, she had done a lot of breaking in when she was carrying out her case in London so she was no stranger to stealth.

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Beau was at a house that looked like a commoner's house. The information he obtained detailed a man in the house who was no doubt part of The Creed.

After 3 hours of watching there was no sign of any residents in the house.

He was round the back of the house in a tree, out of sight, so as not to draw attention from passing strangers.

Eventually, he got down and went to the front of the house.

‘FOR SALE.’

Beau slapped his forehead with his hand and walked into the house.

After taking anything that looked like it could be important he left, hurrying back to the inn and dead set on making sure Watson never finds out about his blunder.