Behind the thick crowd, Matt crouched low, voice steady but quick.
"Alright. Rags up—cover your faces. We don't want to be recognized later."
He handed each of them a torn piece of cloth from his pack. Dave looped his around his nose and mouth, grumbling nervously.
Matt pointed at the hay cart. "Dave, stand by that cart. When the old man drops, get him out of here. Fast."
Dave's eyes were locked on the scaffold. "And how exactly is he gonna drop without hanging?"
"I'm working on that," Matt muttered, scanning for a solution.
From her perch on a weathered signpost, Nia raised a hand. "I can help. I may not have wings, but I can still use wind. I can slice the rope and give him a little lift to the cart. But I'll need the right moment."
Matt nodded, then dug into his bag and pulled out a crumpled candy wrapper. He stretched it tight between his fingers. "Then this'll be your signal. I'll draw their eyes—loud and clear."
With everything set, they moved into position. Dave stood beside the hay cart, visibly sweating. Nia balanced carefully on the pole, her fingers glowing faintly, eyes locked on the scaffold.
On stage, the guard was finishing the sentence, reading from a scroll with robotic precision.
Matt climbed onto a crate at the edge of the crowd, raised the wrapper to his mouth, and blew sharply.
WHEEEET!
The piercing whistle cut through the noise like a blade. Dozens of heads turned. Even the guards on the scaffold jerked to attention, startled by the sudden sound.
At that exact moment, Nia's eyes flared. She flicked her fingers. A gust of sharp air sliced clean through the hanging rope, and another pushed the falling man sideways through the air—
—he landed with a soft thump in the hay, coughing and confused.
Dave didn't wait. With a roar that came from somewhere deep in his gut, he grabbed the cart's handles and pulled like his life depended on it. The wheels groaned, cracked, then rolled forward. He barreled through the crowd, knocking baskets and people aside, disappearing into the chaos.
Matt was already gone from the crate, vanishing into an alley with Nia hopping down to follow him.
Back at the scaffold, all that remained was a limp rope swaying in the wind—and a square full of shouting, confused guards.
Behind the inn, Dave pulled the cart to a stop, gasping for breath. "That… was the most… I've ever exercised," he wheezed, slumping over the side.
Matt jumped into the cart and brushed aside the hay. "You alright in there?" he asked, helping the old man sit up. He was coughing but alive, shaking the straw out of his clothes.
Matt helped him down. "Why were they going to hang you? You seemed like a kind man when we met."
The old man nodded slowly, catching his breath. "My name is Halric. I used to be the lord of this town. It was a quiet place, peaceful. Then things changed."
He sat on a crate, hands resting on his knees. His voice was soft but steady.
"My daughter, Elira, is the current lord now. She was kind, thoughtful… always wanted to help the people. But something happened to her about a year ago. She changed."
Dave, still trying to get air back into his lungs, raised an eyebrow. "Changed? You mean like… grew colder?"
Halric shook his head. "No. It's like something took her place. She still looks like my daughter, but she doesn't act like her anymore. Her voice is different. The way she talks, the way she looks at people—it's like she's trying to erase who she was."
Nia sat nearby, watching quietly. "What caused the change?"
Halric looked up. "It started after she brought home a strange mirror. It was found during an expedition in the Sacred Mountains. A large, polished relic with carvings around the frame. She became obsessed with it."
Matt narrowed his eyes. "So the mirror might be the cause."
Halric nodded. "After she brought it home, she started shutting people out. Then one by one, anyone close to her—advisors, old friends—were either dismissed or vanished. I tried to speak up. I begged her to tell me what was wrong… and then she had me arrested."
Dave folded his arms. "So, something in that mirror messed her up."
"Maybe," Halric said. "All I know is that the girl I raised wouldn't hurt anyone. But whoever's wearing her face now wants to get rid of everything that connects her to her old life."
Matt glanced at Nia, then at Dave. "We can't just leave this alone. Not after what we saw."
Dave sighed. "I knew sleeping indoors was too good to be true."
Matt looked back to Halric. "We'll help you. But we need to figure out how to get close to that mirror."
Halric leaned forward, voice low and urgent. "In three days, there's going to be a ball at the mansion. A formal event—nobles, merchants, foreign envoys. Important people from all over the region will be there."
He turned his eyes to Dave and looked him up and down. "And your friend here… if I didn't know better, I'd say he could pass for one of them. Well-fed, confident—he'd fit right in."
Dave immediately held up both hands. "Whoa, hold it right there, Gandalf. No way. I'm not dancing. Not for gold, not for glory, not even for a bed with actual springs."
Matt chuckled. "You might not have to dance, Dave. But the ball is our best shot to get inside without raising suspicion. If the mirror's anywhere in that mansion, that'll be the night to find it."
Nia, still perched on a barrel nearby, nodded. "With that many people, it'll be easier to slip around unnoticed. I could scout if needed, though sneaking in without wings is a bit harder."
Halric looked between them. "If you truly mean to help, I can arrange for disguises. I still have a few contacts inside the city who owe me favors."
Dave groaned and looked up at the sky. "Why couldn't the mirror just be in a cave guarded by a dragon or something? No dancing required."
Matt smirked. "Because that would be too easy."
"Fine," Dave grumbled. "But if anyone asks me to waltz, I'm lighting the building on fire."
The next few days were rough for Dave.
Harlic was relentless. From the moment the sun rose, he drilled Dave on how to speak properly—no slouching, no crude jokes, no mouthfuls of food while talking. "You're not a man, you're a noble," Harlic would bark, poking Dave with the end of his cane every time he slipped up.
Dave grumbled through all of it. "I feel like a trained monkey," he muttered one afternoon, fumbling with a fork.
Harlic leaned in. "A monkey with proper posture would still get invited to dinner. You wouldn't."
The worst part came when Harlic tried to teach him how to dance. "Absolutely not," Dave said, backing away as Harlic stepped forward with an outstretched hand.
"Come now, it's just to teach you the rhythm."
"Nope. Not doing it. I'd rather wrestle a slime. A red one."
Harlic sighed and muttered something about barbarians under his breath.
Matt, meanwhile, was going over the mansion's layout that Harlic had roughly sketched from memory. Nia listened in and offered tips on sneaking through guarded halls and finding blind spots. Dave sulked in the background, being fitted into an overly fancy outfit with more buttons than he could count.
When the day of the ball arrived, Harlic stood proudly, brushing invisible lint from Dave's sleeve. He handed over a clean envelope with a wax seal.
"Your invitation. From this point on, you are Lord Davien of Merrow's Coast. A wealthy heir with a taste for rare artifacts and an interest in forming alliances." He straightened Dave's collar and gave him a firm nod. "Remember everything I taught you."
Dave gulped and glanced at Matt, who was in more practical but sharp attire, ready to sneak in through a side entrance during the ball.
"If I trip and fall on someone, you better come save me," Dave muttered.
Matt grinned. "If you fall on someone, I'm running."
Nia, hidden inside a pouch on Matt's belt, snickered. "You'll be fine. Just don't eat the appetizers too fast."
The mansion loomed ahead like a palace carved from ivory and shadow. Golden lanterns flickered along its walls, and elegant music drifted into the evening air. Dozens of finely dressed guests arrived in carriages, their laughter echoing beneath the massive archway leading into the grand hall.
Dave stared up at the structure, tugging at the collar of his embroidered coat. "This place looks like it could swallow five of our hometowns."
Matt adjusted the pouch at his side where Nia was quietly nestled. "Stay calm. You're not here to make friends—you're here to get us closer to that mirror."
Dave nodded slowly, holding up the invitation. "Lord Davien of Merrow's Coast. Got it."
A footman approached and bowed. "Invitation, my lord?"
Dave handed it over with a slightly trembling hand. The footman examined the seal, nodded, and gestured grandly. "Welcome to the Verlain Estate. Please, enjoy the evening."
As Dave stepped inside, his jaw dropped.
The ballroom was enormous. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead. Polished marble floors reflected the swirling gowns and shimmering outfits of nobles dancing to the music of a live quartet. Tables with delicacies from across the kingdoms lined the walls, and servants moved like shadows, never standing still.
Dave took a shaky breath. "How am I supposed to fit in here?"
"Confidence," Matt whispered from behind a pillar. He wasn't allowed inside as a guest, but he'd already slipped through one of the servant entrances and was now watching from the shadows. "Just act like you've done this a hundred times."
Nia peeked out from the pouch. "Try not to sweat through the suit."
Dave swallowed hard, then straightened his posture and entered the ballroom. Nobles glanced his way, some whispering to one another, intrigued by the unfamiliar face.
Across the hall, a girl in a silver mask stood near the stairs—elegant, cold, and staring directly at Dave.
Matt noticed her too and leaned closer to Nia. "I think that's her… the current lord. Harlic's daughter."
Nia nodded. "Her aura feels strange. Like something is wearing her skin."
Matt narrowed his eyes. "Then we better move quickly. The mirror could be close."
Dave gulped hard and made a beeline for the nearest servant carrying a silver tray of appetizers. He grabbed one of the little puffed pastries and popped it into his mouth, chewing nervously. "Tastes like anxiety," he muttered to himself.
Before he could retreat into a corner, a young lady in a deep blue dress approached him with a curious smile. "I don't believe I've seen you before. Where are you from, Lord…?"
Dave panicked slightly. "Uh… Merrow's Coast," he mumbled, nearly choking on his words. "Small place. Very small. You probably haven't heard of it."
"Oh? And what brings you all the way here?"
He backed up awkwardly, trying to wave off the conversation. "Oh, you know… noble things. Important… matters—"
Thud.
He bumped into a tall man with a curled mustache and a very shiny coat. The man staggered slightly, then turned sharply toward Dave, his expression turning into one of pure offense.
"You dare?" the man barked. "You clumsy oaf!"
Dave raised his hands. "Sorry, sorry! Totally an accident!"
The man's face twisted further. He pulled off one of his gloves and threw it dramatically to the floor. "I demand satisfaction! A duel!"
Dave's eyes widened. "A what now?!"
He spun around, trying to spot Matt through the crowd, but Matt was nowhere to be seen. "Matt?" he whispered, scanning the ballroom in desperation. "Nia? Somebody?"
Then, from behind the angry noble, the girl in the silver mask stepped forward with an amused smile. Her presence silenced the nearby murmurs.
"Well, well," she said, her voice cool and clear. "I was already bored of tonight. But a duel? That could be entertaining."
Dave's stomach turned. "Great," he muttered. "This is how I die. In fancy shoes."