Chapter 7 Stranger

Maple leaned against the rough stone wall, catching his breath after the chaos of the fight. His body ached, every bruise throbbing like a dull drumbeat, but the cigarette between his fingers was a small, familiar comfort. He took a deep drag, feeling the smoke fill his lungs and ground him with its bitter taste.

Opening his eyes, he glanced down at the crumpled body sprawled on the ground, limbs twisted at unnatural angles like a discarded puppet. A smirk tugged at his lips, tinged with ridicule. "What an idiot," he thought. "This is the fate of those who underestimate others."

Nearby, Captain barked orders, his voice rising above the noise of patrons and constables alike, ensuring the cleanup was thorough. Maple watched him for a moment, lost in thought, when he heard light, swift footsteps approaching from the shadows.

"What's so funny?" a sharp, feminine voice cut through the din.

Before he could react, cold metal pressed against the side of his head. His pulse quickened. A gun. Every instinct screamed at him to fight, but the deep ache from his recent battle held him back. One wrong move could end him here.

"Don't move," she commanded, her voice calm and steady, with an edge that brooked no argument.

Maple exhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl into the air, defiant even with death resting at his temple. "Why haven't you shot yet? Scared?" He smirked, sarcasm dripping from his words. "It's easier than you think."

"Wow, you're as crazy as I thought," she replied, sounding almost amused. "No, I'm not scared. I'm here to talk."

He turned slightly, catching a glimpse of her face beneath a hooded cloak. Her sharp blue eyes gleamed like glacial ice, contrasting with her jet-black hair that fell loose around her shoulders. A silver-threaded symbol on her cloak—a barren tree under a rising moon—caught his attention.

So, it's her. A smirk threatened to break through. "You think I'm crazy?" he scoffed, nodding to the broken form on the ground. "Didn't you see what I did to your boyfriend?"

Unfazed, she just gave him a cool, measured look. "You're not as clever as you think, Maple. You might want to consider the consequences of your actions."

He took another drag, exhaling slowly. "Alright, what do you want? I'd make it quick if I were you. That bald fellow sees you here, and he'll make sure you don't leave breathing." He paused, eyes gleaming with mock concern. "Actually, take all the time you want."

"I need information on the relic," she said, her tone sharpening, exuding an air of authority. "You know where it is, don't you?"

Cassy let the smoke swirl around them, his expression impassive. "I don't know where it is. The old man said he struck it rich, claimed it was as powerful as a regalia."

"Liar," she replied, her voice hardening. "You're just wasting my time."

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant with a gun at his head. "You'd have to be either very brave or very stupid to lie while held at gunpoint."

A dry laugh escaped her. "Wouldn't surprise me if you were both."

"And why go through all this trouble for a ring?" He tilted his head, watching her with mild curiosity. "Isn't it just an old trinket?"

For a brief moment, her gaze grew distant. "That ring belonged to someone precious to me," she said quietly, her voice now heavy with emotion. "It was stolen, and I intend to see it returned. I'll kill anyone who gets in my way."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with conviction. Cassy arched a brow. "You think Sleeping Forest is just going to let you walk away with it? They'll come for you if they find out."

She scoffed, barely fazed. "They won't know until it's too late. And by then, their opinions won't matter."

"Got a name?" he asked, flicking ash from his cigarette. "If I come across anything, I'll leave a message for you at the fight pit. First Sunday of the month."

"Leave it for Bella," she replied, her voice distant yet commanding.

"Alright, Bella. Now get out of here," Cassy said, glancing toward where Captain was still busy. "If you're caught, things get complicated."

She turned to leave but paused, casting a curious glance over her shoulder. "Your name really Maple?"

"Sometimes," he replied with a half-smile, leaving her to wonder.

The cold pressure beside his head disappeared, and when he looked around again, she was gone, melting into the shadows like smoke in the night.

Interesting. A rational enemy with a vendetta, he mused. Stupid girl. She reminded him of Cassy—idealistic in the worst kind of way, like someone who hadn't yet learned how dark the world could be.

"Oi, Cassy! Quit lazing around!" Captain's shout snapped him from his thoughts.

Cassy pushed off the wall, sauntering over to Captain with a lazy grin. His clothes were rumpled, and bruises covered his arms and face, yet he met Captain's stern gaze with that same hint of amusement. "Sorry, Captain. What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice light but respectful.

The Captain gave him a once-over, a sigh escaping him. "We'll discuss it back at the office. You look like a street rat, Cassy."

Cassy nodded, feeling the sting of his injuries as he trailed behind Captain. The station loomed ahead, a foreboding structure wrapped in shadows under the night sky. A few constables offered rough first aid, bandaging him up with quick, practiced movements. The fight had given his worn body a few new trophies to be sure.

Back at Blackstone Solutions, he climbed the stairs, passing Jack, who raised an amused brow as he took in Cassy's battered state. "Hey, my apartment burned down. Mind if I stay at yours tonight?" Cassy asked, deadpan.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, giving up the innocent act to become a comedian now? No way. I've got a date. Good luck finding a place that won't smell like sweat and cheap booze."

As they spoke, Cassy's eyes flicked to the receptionist—a quick glance that lingered a moment too long. His pulse quickened before he forced his gaze away, an unreadable expression settling over his face.

Entering Captain's office, he cleared his throat as he stepped into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of tobacco. Captain was pouring himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one swift motion before setting the empty glass aside.

"Cassy, listen. We'll give you a month's pay in advance, so…" Captain's eyes swept over Cassy's disheveled appearance, his expression filled with thinly veiled disapproval. "Get yourself a decent suit. Tomorrow, I'll speak with the church about arranging new accommodations for you. But tonight, you'll have to make do on your own. I'll send Claire to keep an eye on your building in case of any late-night visitors."

Captain took out his wallet and handed him two 5 pound notes.

"That sounds great. Thank you for this… opportunity," Cassy replied, a trace of sincerity in his voice. "I've been fighting in the pits just to get by since I was fourteen."

Captain nodded, as though acknowledging the weight behind those words. "If tonight's events are anything to go by, you'll be worth the investment." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Speaking of which, Jack tells me you were the one who dealt with the Jester?"

"That's right. He mimicked Jack's powers, badly injuring my leg before I managed to get the jump on him."

"Is that so?" Captain's brow furrowed in thought. "Did you notice anything unusual after he died? The scene… it looked like he'd been mauled by a bear."

Cassy hesitated, debating whether to reveal what he'd found. After a brief pause, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the peculiar silver object that had materialized from the Jester's body. It resembled an eyeball, dipped in mercury, its surface reflecting his own image back at him.

-So much for keeping my spoils,- Cassy thought sourly. He had opted for honesty, despite Maple's warning echoing in his mind: Nothing good ever comes from honesty.

Reluctantly, he placed the silver "eyeball" in Captain's outstretched hand.

"You did well, Cassy," Captain said, his tone a mix of approval and authority. He held the object up to the light, scrutinizing it with a critical eye. "For future reference, this is called a seed of descent. It can substitute for the main ingredient of a potion, as long as it's within the same path. For instance, this one could be used to brew a Jester potion."

Cassy furrowed his brow, a hint of confusion surfacing. "So… if I ate it, I'd become a Jester?"

Captain's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Half-right, yes. Ingesting the seed would grant you Jester powers, but there's a catch. Seeds often carry remnants of their former owners, and without supplementary ingredients, they can lead to madness."

Cassy's eyes darted back to the object, now heavy with a sense of foreboding. "And… you? Are you all descenders?"

Captain pulled a well-worn pipe from his desk drawer, the ritual calming him as he packed it with tobacco. He took a deep inhale, releasing a slow plume of smoke that hung in the air like a solemn vow. "Most of us, yes. There are two civilian members—three now, I suppose, since you joined. Rochelle from the lobby is one of them, and the other is Gerald, who operates our private carriage." He leaned back in his chair, exuding an air of authority that made the room feel smaller. "Given your contributions today, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume you've earned enough merits for a potion supplied by the church."

"Really?" Cassy's voice betrayed a flicker of hope, the prospect of actual reward igniting a spark within him.

"However," Captain continued, his voice turning stern, "the hour is late, and I'm sure you're tired. Go home, get some rest. We can continue this discussion in the morning. And remember to show up looking decent. Good night, Cassy."

"Good night, Captain!" Cassy replied, offering a somewhat awkward half-bow, a mix of gratitude and respect.

As he crossed the lobby, he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, attempting to suppress the inappropriate thoughts in his mind. The night air greeted him with a cool kiss as he stepped outside, the bustling city of Menthil humming around him.