I slipped into the shadows at the first opportunity.

Nestled in darkness, I crept towards the safe zone’s south gate. As I traveled, I reflected on the assassins and their ongoing hunt.

As disconcerting as I found the mantises’ persistence, the day’s events had given me a better grasp of their abilities. Both the scent enchantment ward and my own facial disguise spell had defeated their hunter eyes. And while that reassured me, there was still the question of how the pair had known to look for me in the dungeon in the first place.

I hadn’t told anyone where I was heading today, nor was it likely that the assassins had followed me from the citadel—otherwise, I was sure they would’ve ambushed me earlier.

Wengulax and Gintalush had obviously been tracking my consciousness. The hunter eyes had certainly been capable of sensing my unshielded mind, and it was no stretch to believe that the mantises could do the same over a much larger distance.

But if that was the case, why hadn’t the assassins been able to pinpoint my precise location?

Could whatever spell the pair had been using not be accurate enough? Had it only given them my general position? Was that why they’d resorted to using the hunter eyes to locate me in the dungeon?

Makes sense, I mused.

Of course, there was another, simpler possibility.

That Loken had told them where I was.

The Shadow Power was the only one that I knew for certain was tracking me. But according to the bounty hunter’s guild, the mantises only worked for the Dark, and despite what I’d recently learned of Loken’s machinations, I couldn’t see the Power attempting to kill me.

If he’d wanted me dead, Loken had ample opportunity to make certain of that in Erebus’ dungeon. And besides, killing me seemed… entirely too mundane for him. Nothing with the trickster was ever that simple.

Me dead benefited the Shadow Power little.

But me alive… that was someone Loken could exploit to his own ends.

No, I concluded. Loken and the mantises aren’t working together.

Still, I had to assume that wherever I went, my hunters would be able to locate me. And that meant… My steps slowed, and I came to a halt.

I can’t go to the safe zone, I realized.

There was only one way in and out from there for me—the south gate. All the mantises would have to do was lie in wait at the gate’s exit and follow me when I entered the plague quarter.

I grimaced. Which is likely how they found me during my second day in the city.

Swinging back around, I headed southeast. Until I dealt with the mantises, the safe zone was no longer a viable refuge.

I would have to find somewhere else to spend the night.

~~~

The best alternative to staying in the safe zone was spending the night in the Triumvirate citadel. Slinking through the darkened quarter, I reached the square bordering the keep without mishap.

Before leaving the shadows, I cast lesser imitate, wrapping myself in the illusion of an ordinary and forgettable human warrior.

I passed through the outer gates—still open at this late hour—and into the courtyard, but when I reached the steps leading up to the keep, I let the illusion drop.

The constable knew me as Micheal, and I feared that if I approached as someone else, I would be barred from entry. Sure enough, the moment I climbed the stairs, the gaze of the duty sergeant fixed on me. “Identify yourself!” he barked.

I paused. “Michael,” I said.

My response did nothing to thaw the knight’s frosty glare.

“I was here yesterday with Simone’s party,” I added helpfully. “Constable Richter will recognize me.” At least, I hoped he would.

My words had the desired effect, and the knight-sergeant turned back to mumble something to someone on the other side of the door.

At the returning message, I was let in.

“Ah, the mindstalker,” the constable said as I stepped into the entrance foyer. “Welcome. Looking for a room again?”

I nodded.

“How many nights will you be staying with us this time?”

I hesitated.

Sensing my uncertainty, Richter added, “If your stay extends beyond a single night, you can keep the room key. It alone will suffice to gain you entrance into the castle—” he looked me over—“no matter the manner of your appearance.”

I eyed him carefully, not missing his meaning. The constable, I was sure suddenly, already knew that I could disguise my form. Was it a guess based on my Class? Or had Richter somehow observed me wearing an illusion earlier?

However he’d figured it out, the constable’s words served to convince me. “Alright, I’ll take a room for three nights.”

Wordlessly, Richter held out a key. I took the item and paid the required fee.

You have lost 12 golds.

You have acquired a Triumvirate citadel room key. This is a Game-created access key and cannot be traded, stolen, or lost. After three days have passed, this item will automatically be returned to the issuing authority.

My eyebrows rose at the Adjudicator’s message. This was not the same key I’d been given during my previous one-night stay and seemed to be far more than a simple room key.

Seeing my expression, Richter smiled. “The Triumvirate takes its obligation to its guests very seriously.” He jerked his chin towards the key. “That marks you as a temporary resident of the citadel. You can sleep easy knowing that for the duration of your stay, you will be officially under the knights’ protection.”

“Well, that’s… uhm, nice,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

The constable waved his hand, accepting my thanks as no more than his due. “Of course. Now, I believe you know your way to the room?”

I nodded and, without further conversation, strode away.

~~~

Before turning in for the night, I had one stop to make.

Hurrying through the citadel, I made my way to the Kesh emporium outlet. I needed to stock up on my wards. During my time in the scorching dunes, I’d employed four sense and four disease protection crystals, and I expected to do much the same tomorrow.

Considering the price of the crystals, I realized that I’d ended the day at a loss. I’d spent eight wards—valued at one hundred and sixty golds—and in return gained only fifty golds. From a purely monetary perspective, the day had not served me well, but that was alright. The skills I’d improved on more than made up for that lack, and I was confident that after a few more days, I could turn around the equation and start earning real money.

Once again, I found the emporium offices empty but for Kesh’s agent. The red-cloaked woman was in nearly the exact same position I’d left her in the morning. Does she never sleep? I wondered.

“Welcome back, Michael,” the agent said, greeting me warmly.

I inclined my head in response.

“Have you come to inquire about your correspondence?” she asked. “I handed over your letter to Kesh this morning, and she promised she would see it delivered to your tavernkeeper soon.”

“Ah, that’s good. Thanks,” I replied. “But no, actually, I came here for another reason. I need to stock up on disease protection and scent protection crystals again,” I said, getting right to it.

“Of course,” the agent replied. “You wish to purchase another lot of five?”

I nodded, and we concluded the exchange without fuss.

You have acquired 5 x rank 4 disease protection crystals.

You have acquired 5 x scent protection crystals.

Money remaining in your bank account: 666 gold, 4 silvers, and 9 coppers coins.

“Is there anything else?” the agent asked.

I began to shake my head, then stopped. “You know… I still don’t know your name,” I said.

It was more than idle curiosity that sparked my statement. This was the third time I’d dealt with the agent—despite not having seen her face, I was sure it was the same woman I’d spoken to on all three occasions—and I felt I was beginning to get to know how.

But I realized I wasn’t. Not really.

I didn’t know the agent’s name nor what she looked like. Even her scent was masked. Her voice and mannerisms were the only means I had of identifying her.

Caught by surprise, the agent hadn’t responded to my question yet. “I’ve none to give,” she said finally. “While I wear the garb of the emporium and act as Kesh’s factor, I must remain nameless.”

I nodded, having suspected as much already. “That’s to keep your identity secret, I presume.” I paused. “But why go to such lengths?”

“I’m sure you know by now,” she began, “that Kesh has sworn to protect the anonymity of her customers under the auspices of a Pact?”

I nodded.

“Then you know the why of it already,” she replied, the smile evident in her voice. “We conceal our identity to prevent anyone from forcibly attempting to extract information from us when not on duty.”

I frowned. “But what about when you are on duty? What’s stopping me from attacking you now?”

The agent laughed gently. “I’d caution you against trying. The consequences will be quite… severe.” She gestured downwards. “My robe protects me.”

I blinked. “Your robe?”

“It is a high-tiered artifact crafted by one of the Triumvirate Powers. The robe both conceals my identity and protects me from attack.” She paused. “Any attack.”

It took me a moment to catch her meaning. “What, you mean it's proof against Powers too?” I asked, half-incredulously.

“It is,” she confirmed.

“Well, isn’t that something,” I murmured. Kesh had gone to greater lengths than I’d realized to keep her secrets. I glanced at the agent again. “Can I analyze you?”

“You can try,” she said, amusement coursing through her voice again.

Gathering my will, I reached out and, for the first time, attempted to analyze the agent.

You cannot analyze your target! This entity is immune to this ability!

The Adjudicator’s message added further weight to the agent’s words, and I found myself believing the rest of what she’d said. I thought for a second further, then asked, “What about Kesh?”

“Kesh?”

“She doesn’t wear a robe,” I said. “Why not?”

“Ah,” the agent said. “Kesh never leaves the Nexus safe zone. Ever. It is part of the price she’s been made to pay for her bargain with the Triumvirate.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you,” I said and spun about to leave. Midway, I paused and swung back around.

“Cara,” I said abruptly.

I could sense the agent’s sudden confusion.

“That’s what I’d like to call you. If it is not too presumptuous, of course. ‘Agent’ is just so… formal.” I stared into her hood. “Can I call you that?”

The agent was silent for so long that I thought she wouldn’t answer. “Cara will do,” she said at last.

I smiled and, waving in farewell, headed to my room.