“So first and foremost, your mission at the moment is to track down a clue as to where the culprit took the witnesses. Once you have an idea of where they left to, report back. We will decide upon our next course of action then.”

The instructions, the only words that the Queen had spoken to him after their brief introduction, floated around Eric’s head for the better part of the remainder of the evening. He’d been sent on his way then, without much more information. Only Samuel had stepped out to speak to him directly, yet another painfully short conversation that created more questions than it answered. Eric fingered the bracelet on his wrist as he thought of it.

“Take this bracelet,” Samuel had said, thrusting it into his hand. “It shows that you act with the Royal Family’s permission, and should grant you a little more leeway. And make sure to avoid entering any promises or deals while you are wearing this, as you are technically a representative of the family until you return it.”

Eric had nodded, slipping the bracelet over his fist. It changed shape to fit him perfectly. “Samuel, why am I involved in this? If someone was able to kill a God, then what makes you think I could be of any use against them?”

“You won’t be expected to fight whoever did this,” Samuel had reassured him. “We just need more information. The culprit is smart enough to disable any known magical surveillance, so we need good old-fashioned investigation from someone who’s not known.”

First, he’d returned to the barracks to collect his things. As his training was over and he’d passed, the bunk was now needed for another occupant. Some of his fellow trainees were still there, and they called out to him as he walked in, wondering where he’d gone. He’d missed their little celebration party. Fending off the questions with vague answers about meeting with a friend he hadn’t seen in a while, Eric hurriedly scooped up his meager belongings and made his way back to the Heron Tavern. He gave Mandra a fistful of royals to pay for two more weeks and turned in early, his brain too wired to eat just then.

Now he lay on his bed, staring up at the gray ceiling, and pondering the mission he’d been given. He lay in a deliberately uncomfortable position to stop himself from dozing off, as he wanted to start his search at night. There were fewer people around then, and more unsavory characters, who tended to know more, would also be present. Eric intended to plumb them for answers, and perhaps, even finally visit M again. His dislike of her was pushed aside with the dire need to complete the job he’d been given.

As he lay there and reviewed everything he knew in his mind, he was also listening to the quiet around him, ears straining to capture any sound they could. He wanted to wait until the taproom downstairs was cleared out, as he didn’t want anyone knowing that he’d departed. Chances were low that anyone would care, but he also didn’t want to be connected to the events after the fact. This was a tactic he’d learned back on Earth, as a way to get across the city without being followed by criminals and druggies.

Finally, the air was silent around him save for the occasional sleepy cough. Two folks in the room directly above him were clearly engaged in… passionate activities, and he willfully ignored them. Rolling off his bed, he quickly donned his belt and sword, then set out and down the hallway at once. He didn’t expect to run into anyone and was therefore surprised when he nearly literally ran into Mandra. The barmaid was making her way down the hall with a plate of food and a cup of tea on a tray.

“Oh!” She said in a surprised but quiet whisper. “You’re still awake? I was just coming to put these in your room, in case you were hungry in the morning.”

Eric glanced down to see the plate laden with meat buns wrapped in cloth, the kind of snack that would be good warm or cold. A rush of gratitude for Mandra washed over him, but he shook his head firmly. She gave him a puzzled look, then her eyes focused on his purposeful expression, sliding down to take in his armor and recently donned sword belt.

“What are you getting into, young man?” She asked sternly, the hand not holding the tray planted firmly on her hip. “Heading out armed as you are, in the middle of the night, that’s very fishy.”

“I’m heading out to work,” Eric replied hurriedly, making a quieting gesture with his hands.

“You’re going to work?” She pressed, still staring at him suspiciously. “You found a new contract already?”

“Err,” he said hesitantly. “Yes.”

It wasn’t technically the truth, but it also wasn’t a lie. He was sure that, if he proved successful that there would be some form of payment in it for him, but they had made it perfectly clear he shouldn’t let his goal slip to anyone. Mandra didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, honest or otherwise, and he began to edge to the side a little, keen to escape the conversation and be on his way.

“Hmm,” she said expansively. “Well, don’t let me hear you getting caught up in trouble again. You put a bad mark on my business when you were attacked on my doorstep.”

“Right,” he said nervously, thinking privately that it was hardly his fault. “Well then, I’m going to be late. Bye.”

He padded down the hallway as quickly and quietly as he could, leaving her standing there in the dark holding the tray. He could feel the pressure of her gaze on his back until he disappeared from view down the stairs, and even then, he had the strangest feeling that she had a vague idea of what he was up to. Pushing that fantastical thought out of his mind, he crossed the taproom in several quick strides and pushed out onto the Queen’s Road.

The usual lanterns had been lit along the wide cobbled street, and the magical lights built atop tall poles cast more light around. Day or night didn’t matter on the main road, as everything was always brightly lit to ensure the peace of mind of the citizens and to make the job of the Queen’s Guard easier. Eric pushed on down the road, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. He had no business here. He wanted, first, to visit the Night Market.

He wasn’t sure if it was the news of a god’s death, but there seemed to be much more activity around the stalls. Even those merchants that hung back in the shadows had more customers in front of them, and the general low buzz of excitable conversation was audible even from the entrance to the market. There was a nervous sort of tension in the air as if each and every shopper was keenly aware that they were out of place. Eric ignored each and every one of them, instead making a sharp right turn toward M’s booth.

She wasn’t there, which struck Eric as odd. Still, he rapped his counters on the wooden stall, much like he would on a desk to get a clerk’s attention. Unsurprisingly, he only had to wait a few seconds before her smooth voice came from behind him.

“Good evening, Eric Breeden. What brings you back to my stall on this unfortunate evening?”

Eric hesitated, his brain getting stuck on her question. What made her call this an unfortunate evening? Was she aware of what had truly happened, or was she just referring to the general sense of unease that was gripping the other citizens of the city? Also, was it just his imagination, or did she look a little… sad? It was as if someone close to her was gravely ill, and she had to put extra effort into her careless mask this evening.

“I’m here for information,” He said after a short pause, once she’d slipped into her seat and kicked her feet up. “It’s about a… an incident that occurred last night, in the Temple District.”

“Are you referring to the dwarven man that was murdered?” She asked instantly. “I’m surprised you’re involved in all that. Aren’t you a bodyguard for a dishonest fat merchant?”

“I was,” he answered shortly. “New contract. Do you know anything about the adventurers that were supposedly witness to it?”

“I don’t know them personally,” she said, lacing her fingers together and staring intently at him. “They stopped by my stall earlier in the day, but it was their first visit, so I didn’t know them well.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly, seizing on the potential source of new information. “Can you describe them to me? My… employer thinks they can help us identify the murderer.”

“You don’t think the Queen’s Guard, Maravino, and every Royal official hasn’t already asked me this question?” M prompted him, a coy smile on her face, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “I told them what I know. Surely your… new boss could tell you what I told them.”

Eric recognized her question for what it was, an attempt to gather information. If royal officials had already questioned her, and he replied in an affirmative manner, then he’d reveal that he was working for the Royal Family. She was clever, he thought with an unseen sigh of impatience. I have to keep a close watch on what I say, even as I try to pull information from her.

“I wouldn’t be worth much to my employer if I couldn’t hunt the information down myself,” he said evavsively. “So. Can you describe them to me?”

The coy smile on her face stretched into a full grin of amusement. She threw her head back and laughed loudly. “By the Mother, you are quick on your feet. Alright then, Eric Breeden. I’ll tell you what you want to know. But information of this nature isn’t free, you know.”

Eric was already reaching for his coin pouch. “I’m aware. Name your price.”

She frowned at the small pile of coins he produced, and made a negative gesture with one hand. “I don’t want your pitiful savings. No, I want a favor.”

“A favor?” He repeated her words, turning them into a question. He remembered Samuel’s instructions not to enter any deals or bargains that could affect the Royal Family. Keeping his face impassive, he continued. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing right now,” she said, her voice almost a purr. “But in the future, after your business is concluded, I may need you for one errand or another.”

“After my contract with this employer is over?” He asked, wanting to be sure. When she nodded, he shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take that deal.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Well then. What you really want to know isn’t the appearances of the adventurers that the man kidnapped.”

“Sure it is,” he corrected her. “I need to find them to find him.”

“But of course,” M agreed smoothly. “But you do not need to know what they look like. As I mentioned, they stopped by my stall earlier that day. I sold them messaging gems.”

“So?” He queried. “How does this information help me?”

He could tell by her reaction that he’d said something stupid, something that marked him as an outsider. Swallowing his impatience, he clamped his jaw shut as she leaned forward. “Messaging gems are linked to each other with unique runes. Regardless of distance, the gems can transmit voices and sounds with ease.”

Right, he thought. That was essentially a walkie-talkie with a longer range. Nothing new to him, who had spent most of his life with the internet and radio for company. But it’s not like he could tap into the conversations that others had with a walkie-talkie of his own. For a start, he’d have to know the frequency they used if he wanted to pick anything up. Then he blinked, and he could have punched himself. That was the answer and the information that she offered him.

“You have one that matches,” he said simply. “And you’re offering it to me.”