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Wall Rose Interior; Karanes…
Karanes was surprisingly a more quiet region of the walls, an eastern part of Wall Rose nestled between the outer regions and near wall Maria territory. Around there was a butchery owned by a third-generation butcher whose family had been serving the community since the time the walls were built. The current owner was a large man whose appearance made him look terrifying, but underneath the gruff exterior was a man who took his craft seriously.
Today, however, he was in a foul mood.
"You're late," The shop owner muttered, crossing his arms as he watched the delivery wagon pull up to the back of his shop. "The morning rush is already over. Half my customers went to the competition because I had no meat to sell."
The wagon driver, a pot-bellied man in a dark suit and hat, climbed down from his seat with a grunt. This was Demo Reeves, a wholesale merchant who supplied goods to butchers, bakers, and grocers across Wall Rose. Apparently, he too was in a foul mood as well.
"I know, I know," Reeves said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "The road to Trost was closed. Again. They're still investigating that mess with the Demon Dog, and they've got checkpoints everywhere. I had to take the long way through the hills."
The butcher grunted. "The Demon Dog. That's what they're calling it now, is it? Bunch of nonsense, if you ask me. A wolf or a bear that got too bold. The papers are just trying to sell copies as always, that's how business works."
"That's what I thought too," Reeves muttered quietly. He glanced around as if afraid of being overheard. "Until last week. I was near Wall Sina, on a delivery run. Saw the damn thing with my own eyes."
The butcher's eyes widened. "You're joking."
"I wish I was." Reeves pulled out a newspaper from his coat pocket, the edges were worn, in contrast to the latest print. "Says it right here too. 'Demon Dog Sighted in Wall Sina. Noble Estate Attacked.' That was me. I was the delivery that nearly got overrun. My horses bolted, lost cargo and I lost a full day's profit because of that... thing."
The butcher took the paper, scanning the article. "It says here the creature was 'unidentified.' That it 'posed no confirmed threat to the public.'...This was printed last week, and look how that ended out. That's bullshit."
"I know right?" Reeves laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "It killed a man. A servant. Left him in pieces so small they couldn't even identify him by his face. And the papers say it's just a 'rogue animal.'"
"Then why aren't they doing something about it?"
"They are," Reeves said. "They're doing what they always do. Burying the truth and hoping it goes away. The MPs have taken control of the investigation. They're calling it 'bandit activity' and 'animal attacks.' Anything to avoid admitting that there's something out there that they can't control."
The butcher shook his head slowly. "My business is suffering because of this. The roads are closed, the shipments are delayed, and my customers are going to the competition. If this keeps up, I might have to close the shop."
"You and everyone else," Reeves muttered. "I've lost more money in the past week than in the last five years combined. And the government's response? 'Remain calm. Trust the authorities.' Trust them to do what? Sit on their hands while we starve?"
While Reeves and his client continued their conversation, the former's men had been unloading the cargo from the wagon. Wooden crates of fruit, sacks of flour, and barrels of salted meat were stacked in the butchery's storeroom.
"Oi. Load those things carefully, they are fragile you know."
"YES BOSS!" All of them shouted simultaneously, unaware Reeves wasn't the only pair of eyes watching them.
From the shadows of a nearby building, a figure an all too familiar purple cloak stood perfectly still, hiding behind the shadows of their hood.
Charmcaster's violet eyes narrowed as she watched the delivery. Targeting one of the crates as soon as the workers lifted another crate and disappeared into the butcher's abattoir.
She raised her hand making a soft purple glow surround her fingertips. The spell was simple; a sort of basic telekinetic manipulation, one of the first things she had ever learned.
The apples in the crate shrank, compressing into smaller versions of themselves. Then, one by one, they drifted out of the crate, floating through the air like leaves on the wind, and settled into the bag she carried over her shoulder.
She took three dozen. A small amount, unlikely to be noticed immediately. Enough to last her for days.
As the last apple disappeared into her bag, she turned and walked away, quietly disappearing around the corners of the streets ahead.
Just in time, one of Reeves' men came back about to carry another crate…when he noticed at least one crate is empty. And he was very cure that they hadn't taken anything from the fruit crates. That was for another client.
"Where the hell is the rest of it?"
The burly fellow named Kess shouted, still staring at the open crate of apples with a look of utter bewilderment.
"What do you mean, 'the rest of it'?" another worker asked as he came to the wagon.
"I mean the rest of the apples!" Kess gestured at the crate, which contained exactly five sad-looking remaining apples. "We loaded thirty dozen! And now there's five?!"
His companion frowned, peering at the crate. "Maybe you miscounted."
"I didn't miscount shit Pell! I counted them myself before we left the depot! Thirty dozen! I swear on my mother's grave!"
"Maybe some got damaged on the road. Or fell out."
"The crate's sealed! Look at it! Nothing fell out!"
The two men stood in silence for a moment, staring at the crate as if they expected the missing apples to reappear through sheer force of will.
"Did you check the other crates?" Pell finally asked.
"No, why would I—" Kess stopped, his face going pale. "Oh no."
They checked the other crates. The other crates were fine. All the other crates were fine.
Kess let out a long, shaky breath. "It's only the apples. Only the apples are missing."
"Then... who took them?"
"I don't know! I'm not a detective!"
"It's a theft! Someone stole the apples!"
"No shit, Pell!" Kess threw his hands up. "But who? We were right here the whole time! Nobody came into the storeroom except us!"
They exchanged a look of shared panic.
"Reeves is going to kill us."
"Maybe we don't tell him."
"You're insane! He'll notice!"
"Not until the inventory! That's not until tonight!"
"And then what? We're already going to get our pay docked for the delay, and now we're going to lose even more because of missing fruit?"
As the argument escalated, it made Reeves cut his argument shut with the butcher.
"Your boys are fighting."
"I noticed."
_____________________
Charmcaster took an apple from the bag and held it in her hand, examining it before taking a bite.
…It was good. Not as good as the fruits of her homeland, of Ledgerdomain's eternal gardens, but good enough. Although the apple's sweetness did nothing to improve her mood. As she chewed mechanically, she observed the streets she walked along them.
'Two weeks,' she thought bitterly, taking another bite. 'Two weeks in this primitive hellhole, and what do I have to show for it?'
Nothing. Less than nothing. Unless you count stealing from peasants as something. And even then; that was not a low bar to be proud of.
She had been in this world for over a week now, ever since the chaotic escape from the Forever Knights' dungeon. Her uncle had sacrificed himself to give her a chance to escape, and she had been running ever since. Running and hiding. The constant fear of discovery.
Especially by That Man. Aldric.
Whatever power he possessed in that sword rendered their magic irrelevant to it.
For days, trying to find a way back into Wall Shina—no, Sina, had been far difficult than she thought it did be. Those armored bastards had seen her face and knew what she looked like, it wasn't helping she herself was too noticeable. Her hair, her eyes, even to an extent her skin-everything about her screamed "foreigner." The people of this world were paranoid enough, how much more a stranger with unusual powers.
She couldn't trust anybody, learnt that the hard way during her manhunt when the supposed Military police also happen to work with the knights. If she tried to walk through the gates of Wall Sina, she would be spotted within hours. And she damn well knew there was a manhunt looking for her.
So she had been forced to improvise.
She had been careful since her leave from those 'Scouts' quarters, those two knights barely had any useful information wasting all her efforts on tracking. She'd ditched her expensive clothing; stuffing it into her bag; and found a plain tunic and trousers that let her blend in with the common folk. But even those were a risk, as she had refused to get rid of the expensive purple cloak she refused to let go of.
Charmcaster touched the helm where a familiar symbol was, reminding her of her royal lineage…and her father.
Father used to wrap this around me if I was scared.
Her father bought them time to escape…and now Spellbinder was dead. All because of that tyrant Adwayttia. Attacking their home to claim a kingdom that wasn't his. How dare he!
The memory made her jaw tighten, her fingers unconsciously crushing the apple in her grip until juice dripped between her knuckles.
'Father...'
She forced the thought away. Grief was a luxury she couldn't afford. Not now. Not when Uncle Hex; the only family she had in her life now; was imprisoned out there suffering who knows what; not when she was alone in a world that smelled of horses and unwashed bodies and fear.
When she gets back home. She will make Adwayttia pay for causing all this to her.
Charmcaster was so lost in her thought she had barely registered some MPs passing by her. Their green unicorn insignia marking them out as clear as a brand. Charmcaster's heart lurched. She ducked her head, pulling her hood lower, and veered sharply into a narrow alleyway. She pressed her back against the damp stone as the MPs passed the alley's mouth without looking.
'Maybe I should have disguised as a soldier in the first place,' she thought, resuming her walk once the MPs had vanished from sight. 'Heck did this be a lot easier if I can just teleport myself.'
But how? Teleportation was the obvious solution, but her uncle's warning echoed in her mind: "Don't come for me. Find somewhere safe and hide." And even if she ignored his warning—which she was seriously considering…she couldn't even locate him. His magical signature was there, somewhere, but it was muffled, almost like thick fog. Something was blocking her senses.
'What if he's dead?'
The thought struck like a physical blow.
'No. No, he's alive. He has to be.'
But the doubt lingered. Charmcaster shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the immediate problem. Getting into Sina. However, those knights were mostly there.
…Maybe she could slip through by dressing more as a noble? She looked down at her improvised outfit. She'd seen the clothing in Wall Sina—at least, the clothing of the nobles and merchants who passed through the outer districts. Fine fabrics, elaborate embroidery, colors that spoke of wealth and status.
'But I can't just steal a noble's dress,' she thought. 'I still stick out like a sour thumb-'
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden impact.
She had been so lost in her planning that she hadn't noticed the figure approaching from the opposite direction; a tall, lean person wrapped in a grey plain hoodie, their face completely concealed. They collided hard, the force of the impact sending Charmcaster stumbling backward.
"Watch where you're—" she started, then stopped.
Something was wrong.
Her waist felt lighter. She looked down, and froze in shock.
Her bag was gone.
The thief; the grey-hooded figure; was already moving, bolting down the street with a speed that spoke of long practice.
"HEY!" Charmcaster shouted, her voice cracking with fury and panic. "GET BACK HERE!"
The thief didn't even look back. They vaulted over a fence with fluid grace, their grey hoodie a blur against the drab buildings. Charmcaster ran after them immediately.
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