Reynard walked through the market while pondering what had just happened.
Talking to the City Lord's daughter was a somewhat hasty decision. He didn't like making last-minute decisions, but it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.
If Elysia was at the meeting later, having this initial contact would make things much simpler for him to approach her at the manor.
And why would he want to approach her? Because she was a walking shield.
Besides 'Samira', he had one more person to turn to if he was in trouble. Although Reynard disliked putting his life in someone else's hands, having more ways to protect himself was better than having none.
The fact that Elysia didn't get along with her father was the point he found to try to get closer.
Reynard casually threw that idea out to see how she would interpret it. He hadn't explicitly suggested any real action. In fact, he had said a few superficial things, expecting her to connect the pieces.
Elysia was like someone on the edge of a cliff wanting to jump, but needing a push. And well, Reynard was behind her, willing to push her.
This was a pleasant encounter.
He continued walking through the labyrinth of tarps for a while longer, but the market seemed to have exhausted its quota of usefulness for the day. Almost everything he saw now were worse versions of the scams he already knew.
Realizing the sun was getting higher, he decided it was time to return to the inn.
As he retraced his path back, the smell of alcohol greeted him. Rosalinda was still behind the counter, focused on scrubbing a persistent stain on the wood.
In the corner, Eleanor sat alone. She tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table, wearing an apprehensive expression. It seemed something was bothering her, and she couldn't wait for his return to share the information.
"What happened?" Reynard asked, stopping beside the table as he adjusted the wicker cage under his arm.
Eleanor looked up quickly, seemingly relieved he was back, but the worry didn't vanish. "Samira left. She just walked out, without a word, right after you left for the market."
'She's gone already?'
Reynard didn't change his expression upon hearing this. He simply nodded, a short, dry gesture. Internally, he had already counted on the possibility of Samira escaping.
She didn't seem like the type of person who would sit around waiting for his next move if she saw an opening.
Her departure was a calculated contingency.
Besides, Reynard couldn't force her to accompany him to the meeting. And if he did find her, they still had an agreement. Even though he didn't trust her word much, it was still an agreement.
"You don't seem surprised," Eleanor commented, astonished by his lack of interest. She had expected a bigger reaction.
"I'm not," Reynard replied calmly, pulling up a chair to sit down. Walking for so long through the market had made his feet start to ache. "I expected her to escape soon."
"And you're not angry?" Eleanor asked, curious.
"No," Reynard replied simply, not wanting to go into detail.
Eleanor sighed, shaking her head as if trying to understand his logic, but her attention was soon drawn to the movement inside the cage Reynard was carrying.
The chicken let out a muffled cluck.
Only now did she notice the brown chicken there, staring at her with wide eyes. It looked a bit foolish.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, frowning. "You were carrying a chicken through the city the entire time?"
Reynard slid the cage onto the rough wooden table, pushing it toward her with a slight smirk.
"Yes. I bought it from a scammer." He said, watching the stupid bird look at Eleanor. "This will be our meal on the road today."
"Oh..." Eleanor looked at the chicken and then at Reynard, seemingly processing whether he was joking or serious.
The chicken began to flap frantically inside the wicker cage, beating its wings against the narrow walls.
It seemed to have understood the fate awaiting it and was now struggling to escape. Eleanor let out a short sigh, nodding. "Alright..."
She accepted the cage, and at that moment, Rosalinda approached the table. Noticing Reynard's return, she displayed a strange smile, a little wider than necessary.
"I see you're back from the market." She said, resting a hand on her hip and ignoring Eleanor's presence for a second. "Would you like something from the kitchen? I can prepare a special dish now that business has quieted down."
Reynard smiled internally as he looked at the woman, but maintained a neutral expression. He was leaving soon and didn't want to cause trouble for her. It had been a one-night stand.
"No, thank you." He replied, waving his hand. "We're leaving now."
"Alright. If you need anything, you know where to find me." Saying this, Rosalinda turned away, swaying her hips as she left.
Eleanor watched the interaction in silence, noting the way Rosalinda looked at Reynard.
She waited for the innkeeper to walk away to collect some empty mugs at another table before speaking low, changing the subject: "Old Henry has already prepared the carriage. He's waiting outside, ready to leave as soon as you give the signal."
Reynard nodded, and the two stood up, walking toward the counter to settle the bill. Rosalinda stopped what she was doing, watching Reynard approach with poorly disguised anticipation.
"I enjoyed your service, proprietress." Reynard said with a smile, holding her gaze for a moment longer than would be polite. "I plan to return in the future, if I have the opportunity."
Rosalinda flushed almost instantly, understanding the subtext of the promise. She merely nodded positively, unsure exactly how to respond, as she watched the two head for the exit door.
Outside, the sun was already high above their heads. Old Henry held the horses' reins, nodding to them.
***
On the road.
Reynard was looking at the scenery through the window.
He had stayed only one night in Silver City, and now he was closer to the meeting than he would have liked.
It had been just over six days since he received Geraint's visit, and if everything went as planned, he would arrive at the Baron's lands tonight.
'It's coming...' He sighed internally, feeling a slight emotion. With the one-week deadline ending, this made him feel a mix of emotions. The hidden vial and the wooden box with the herbs now seemed a bit more dangerous.
He hadn't felt this before, but now carrying those two items was like carrying a piece of hot coal.
The afternoon sun beat against the curtains, warming the stuffy interior. He leaned back, not wanting to think too much.
The idea of using Elysia came back. If she truly decided to challenge her father during the meeting, the family turmoil would draw everyone's eyes. No one would pay attention to a landless noble from distant lands while the "rebellious daughter" was tearing down the City Lord's reputation.
In the chaos, Reynard would be invisible.
And invisibility was the best way to survive.
Time seemed to trickle between the jolts of the carriage wheels. The shadows of the trees on the roadside began to lengthen, and the golden light of midday gave way to a denser tone.
The suffocating heat gradually diminished, replaced by a cooler breeze that carried the smell of damp earth and pine trees.
In a few hours, night would fall, and they were closer to the Baron's lands.
They had been traveling for hours at that steady pace. Old Henry, outside, kept the reins firm, but the rhythmic clatter of hooves on the ground was slower.
The horses were clearly showing signs of fatigue.
"Henry! Stop under those trees!" Reynard suddenly shouted out the window, pointing to a green cluster ahead. "Let's rest the animals before the final stretch."
Henry obeyed, guiding the carriage off the main track until it stopped under the protective shade of an old oak. The silence of the surrounding forest felt heavy and sudden as the noise of the wheels ceased.
Reynard climbed down first, stretching his stiff muscles.
'This is more comfortable...' He looked around, inhaling the fresh air and sensing the climate.
He might enjoy it more if it weren't for his situation...
Remembering something, he turned to Eleanor. "Prepare the chicken." Reynard pointed to the wicker cage inside the carriage. The chicken had been silent all this time, making Reynard forget about it for a few hours.
"We don't know what kind of food the Baron will serve tonight, and I prefer to face the guards with a full stomach."
Eleanor hesitated, staring at the brown chicken that seemed to observe her with a wide, nervous look. "Now? In the middle of the road?" She asked, hesitating.
It wasn't a problem for her to kill a chicken. She had done it a few times, but it was still a bit uncomfortable.
"It's the best time. I'll go back into the carriage." Reynard planned to stay inside the carriage to retrieve the wooden box and the vial with the poison.
He would try to hide them somewhere better.
It wouldn't be good if the manor guards searched his things before he entered and found those items.
After hesitating for a few seconds, Eleanor still nodded. She took the cage inside the carriage and headed a few meters toward the bushes so as not to stain the carriage.
Reynard returned to the carriage interior, leaving her to prepare the meal.
The minutes passed silently, marked only by the sound of Old Henry tending to the horses.
Until.
"AAAAAH!"
A sharp sound cut through the air. Reynard recognized the voice. It was Eleanor's scream.
'What happened?' Reynard jumped out of the carriage and ran toward where she was, his heart hammering against his ribs.
When he arrived, he found Eleanor fallen to her knees in the tall grass.
She held the knife with both hands, the blade trembling in the air, pointed at the still-closed wicker cage.
Inside, the brown chicken was huddled in a corner, feathers ruffled and neck retracted, emitting low, frantic clucks. The bird looked as terrified as Eleanor.
"What's wrong?" Reynard looked around, but there was no sign of movement.
Eleanor couldn't take her eyes off the cage. Cold sweat ran down her temples. "It... it," she stammered, her voice failing. "It spoke, Reynard!"
'Spoke?'
Reynard was astonished.
He looked at the bird huddled in the wicker. The chicken trembled, its small, round eyes fixed on the knife in Eleanor's hand.
"What do you mean?" Reynard frowned. "Chickens don't talk."
"It spoke!" Eleanor insisted, breathing heavily. "I raised the knife to open the cage, and it... it screamed from within!"
Reynard felt a shiver run up his spine.
Could she be serious?
Reynard stepped closer, looking at the bird again, and under the slanted light of the sunset, he noticed something that made him lose his breath.
Above the brown chicken's head, a small gray flame danced softly.
It was so small he wouldn't have been able to see it if he hadn't approached.
'Gray?'