"That'll be three tiks," The cabdriver says, holding out her grubby hand. I turn to Wikolia but she's already walking towards the rusted wrought-iron fence. Quiet and cheap; Naiomi would like her. I sigh, reaching into my pouch, to pull out the gold, letting it tinkle down into the cabbie's palm. "It's customary to leave a tip," She says, her dirty fingers wiggling impatiently.

"It's customary not to be greedy," I retort. Her eyes widen and her mouth flattens into a line. She looks like a toad; and honestly...doesn't smell much better. But that could be the decaying woods on the edge of the mansion's property. Why does the boar god have to live all the way out here? The Kingdom has the Black Forest. What do we get? Garbage Woods.

"Have you been in Malor, son? Greed's all we know," She says, taking a threatening step forward. Gods, don't make me stab a woman today. The Wyvern was enough of a test. I refrain from sighing as I straighten my shoulders.

"I'm sure Inari will be happy to know that," I keep my voice cool and even. "A Cleansing might be in order. Those loyal to the Kitsune were spared last time, of course," I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I'm sure you've made your offerings, though. You should have nothing to worry about," I pat her on the cheek. She can't seem to find her words. She tries to put the money back in my hands. Now that, is what I'm talking about.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wikolia on the other side of the fence stalking closer to the house. I'm not letting her screw this up. I push the cabbie's hand back, closing it around the small gold pieces. "Keep it. Remember, the virtuous are always spared." I say solemnly. She nods her head quickly, neck fat jiggling while I make my way past her. By the time I look back from the rusted gate, her coach is flying down the desolate forest road. Damn, I forgot we need a ride back. I probably shouldn't have scared her. It was satisfying, though.

My boots crunch softly on the dead grass. I keep myself slightly bent over as I scurry up to Wikolia. She turns her head in my direction, forked tongue flicking out for a moment. That's a bit disturbing...

"So good of you to finally join," She says dryly, creeping closer to the run-down mansion. It presents a stark contrast to the lavish luxury of Midas' residence. The plantation style house is falling apart at the seams. White paint peels off the surface, exposing the rotting wood underneath. What is it with the wealthy and white paint? I don't think I'll ever understand. I follow Wikolia, maintaining an even pace at her side.

"I was preoccupied!" I hiss.

"We're about to become a lot more than preoccupied," She whispers, stopping next to the house. She reaches down to the lock and chain keeping the decaying cellar doors closed. Her brow creases and she gives the handle a firm shake.

"Allow me," I say, holding up my hand. I remove a few slivers of metal from the seams of my pants, opening them with a click. A thief always carries tools. My fingers work quickly on the old padlock, fighting against the rusted mechanisms. Finally, the lock screeches open; it's worse than nails on a chalkboard. The chains fall to the ground. I wrap them around my arm, kicking the padlock away. Wikolia raises an eyebrow at me, though they're barely distinguishable from her scales. "What? I'm one weapon short," I answer her unasked question by gesturing to the empty spot on my belt.

I shrug the chain on my shoulder, gingerly stepping down the old cellar steps. They creak with each fall of my boot. I breathe a sigh of relief once I'm standing on relatively stable ground. Wikolia closes the cellar doors behind her, plunging us into darkness.

"I can't see!" I hiss, holding one hand out. I grope the air, searching for a wall while chains rattle on my shoulder with each movement.

"Follow me," Wikolia whispers, grabbing my arm and leading the way. I catch the dim outlines of shelves and smashed crates. Looks like someone's already here. The Wyvern navigates us through the abandoned room so fast I can barely get a clear look. Before I know it, we're mounting the flimsy steps to, presumably, the kitchen.

A step gives way with a sharp snap. My body tips backwards into the darkness. Shit!