To the average person, Marbleton was a beautiful city, filled with opulence and opportunity. But to a pirate’s daughter, the sparkling city was like a living vault. In the upper-district, pockets clinked with gold, while expensive jewelry and priceless gems glittered beneath a cloudless sky. The finest horses pulled elegant carriages, its passengers too old or too self-important to dirty their feet walking.

Down in the lower-district, however, it was the same as any other town. Guards mulled about, supervising the shops and working people, occasionally glancing at someone they deemed suspicious through their open helmets. Children ran about while their parents took care of the morning shopping. A pair of muscular carpenters carried heavy beams of wood further down the street, and someone was passing out hand-made flyers to advertise a new shop.

Looking around the busy streets, Scarlett realized that she had no idea where to begin their search. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see that Rolt was having the same thought, his eyes moving erratically from one person to the next. “Come on, big guy. We should find a place for these two to rest, and start asking around.”

Rolt nodded, steadying himself as he adjusted his vision towards the buildings lining the street, urging Obsidian onward.

They found a large inn – The Golden Crow – that was easily able to house their horses. It was run by a rather portly woman, with a rough attitude and confident stride. She was set in her prices, and Scarlett was unable to haggle her way down, so the pair were each out three silvers for Ruby and Obsidian to rest. While the stable boy attended to their steeds, Scarlett and Rolt began asking around for Talon.

Well, Scarlett asked around, at least. Rolt stood menacingly behind her, shrugging occasionally to keep his sword from sagging.

She started her search street-level. “Have you seen a man, average height, with long silver hair, and crystal gauntlets, seemingly irritated by his own existence?” And by the end of the day, she’d spat this question out a good hundred times, without any new information to go on.

As the sun began to set, Scarlett found herself relaxing on a wooden crate, situated on the side of the street where fewer and fewer people passed through every hour. “I know we were unlikely to find him right away,” she started, turning slightly towards Rolt, who’d remained standing, “but to not get a single lead is a little annoying, you know?”

Rolt shrugged.

A crash, and clattering of fruit down the street gained their attention.

“Hey! Watch it!” A crimson-robed guard, visibly shaking with rage, had drawn his sword at a middle-aged man dressed in sweaty work clothes.

The working man was stolid, palms held open before him, unwavering before the other man’s bare blade. “Now just calm down, it was an accident. Besides, you were the one who bumped into me.”

“Don’t tempt me, old man!” The guard’s hand was shaking, the tip of his sword wavering, struggling to not skewer the man in front of him.

Taking a step forward, gripping his own sword, Rolt’s advance was halted only by Scarlett’s hand, deftly laid upon his arm. “Hold on there, big guy. Let’s see how this plays out.”

The man’s wicker basket, now empty and on the ground, was still close enough for him to wrap his foot under its handle. As the guard stepped forward, a vein popping out across his forehead, the other man kicked his basket straight up.

Surprised at the sudden motion, the guard slashed, catching the basket and throwing it to the side, tearing through a good chunk of the woven reeds. It also put the guard’s sword at his side, leaving him open.

Taking advantage of the opening, the man launched himself forward with a swift elbow to the guard’s exposed nose, throwing him off balance. In one deft motion, he disarmed the reeling guardsman, grabbing the sword before it could touch the ground.

Just as the guard regained his balance, the older man smashed the sword’s pommel into his temple, throwing the armoured man to the ground in a clattering mess. Regulating his breathing, he threw the sword to the ground, crouching down to collect his dirtied food.

Scarlett smiled at Rolt, “See. Everything worked out fine.” Standing from the crate, the redhead strut from her perch, the man glancing up at her approach. His movements were clean and precise as he picked up the spilt food, dropping it into his damaged basket. Crouching down herself, Scarlett gently picked up an apple, putting it back into the man’s basket with a smile. “You handled yourself well. You a soldier?”

Deciding that she meant no harm, he spoke. “I was, until about three years ago. Been working as a guard since… well, until these bastards came in and began kicking out members of the old guard.” He waved his hand, indicating the unconscious guard, his surcoat the shade of blood.

“That the reason he started the fight?”

The man clicked his tongue in disgust, collecting the last of his fruit. “That blubbering idiot would’ve started the business with an old woman if he’d felt the urge. No, most of these buffoons don’t have anything against the old guard. They’re just lacking a few nails up in their heads. Can’t tell a warrior from a cripple, that lot.”

Scarlett smiled as he eyed her, his gaze moving from her armour to her daggers, then quickly flickering over to Rolt, who kept an unsubtle watch over them. “You’re an adventurer – from out of town, at that.”

A coy smile played at the redhead’s lips. “How do you figure?”

“Your garb is carefully chosen; you’re going for a specific image, even your friend’s garbled mess of a wardrobe is designed to intimidate. Your weapons are decorated, but not overly so. Your friend, on the other hand, is carrying around possibly the largest sword I’ve ever seen, yet wears a suspicious lack of armour. These things tend to point to either adventurers, or fools. And, I bet you both have some kind of tag on your person to dictate your rank in the Guild.”

“Well, you’re a perceptive one.” With Scarlett chuckling, the two stood, the redhead pointing down at the unconscious guard. “So, what’re you going to do about him?”

“Bah! I’ll avoid this street for a week or two and he’ll forget all about it. This isn’t the first run-in I’ve had with this type of lout.” Waving the question away, the former soldier took a single step before stopping, turning back towards Scarlett. “Name’s Rickard, by the way.”

“Scarlett. The big guy’s Rolt… well, that’s what most people call him, anyway. No idea what name his parents gave him.”

Hearing his name, the large man stepped forward, nodding towards Rickard in greeting, who nodded back.

“Well met, adventurers Scarlett and Rolt.” The former soldier bowed his head slightly. “Hopefully this town treats you better than it has me in recent times.”

Before he could walk off, Scarlett stepped forward. “Hold on! Before you go, can I ask you something? We’re actually looking for someone – a friend of ours – and we’re pretty sure he’s somewhere in town.”

Rickard considered her words for a moment, nodding his understanding. “Yeah, maybe I’ve seen them around. What do they look like?”

“He has long, silver hair, usually hidden under a cloak, with a middling build, and constantly has this look on his face that looks like he’s about to kill someone. He has blue gauntlets that look like crystals, and is probably traveling with a dwarf and elf. Have you seen him?” Scarlett knew the answer before it was spoken, confusion in Rickard’s eyes plain as day.

“My apologies, but I’ve seen no one by that description. You’d be better off swinging by the Guild and seeing if he’s stopped by there.” The old soldier sighed, scratching his white-speckled beard as he fell into his thoughts.

Biting her lip, Scarlett relaxed her breathing, shaking hands steadying. Brimlux’s relationship with its other guildhalls was a strained one; the chances that Talon would have stopped there were almost in the negative. “Well, thanks for your time. Come on, Rolt, let’s get back to the inn. We’ll ask around there before we call it a day.”

“Ah, wait!” Rickard called. “I just had an idea.”

The adventurers turned around, Scarlett not too pleased at being stopped but, preferring to not cause any further of a scene, listened with artificial patience.

“Look, I still have a few contacts in the city guard, and I’m well trusted within Marbleton. So, maybe I could pull some favours, and have a few more pairs of eyes looking for your friend.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly, but were quickly thrown into a cold caution as Rickard continued.

“I do, however, have a job that requires a more… discreet application than what I could provide at my age.”