𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 3 Chapter 49 JAYLAH
I weaved through the scattered crowds in the streets of Montaussons, the most populated city since Westyard, around the public stables. The sprawling area was littered with travelers seeking a faster travel south to Kilhoste for business trips, some unmanned carriages here and there.
Cutting between an arguing patron and a handler, I weighed our options: blow money we needed for food on horses that would only take us a few dozen kilometers to Kilhoste, or pull off a nearly impossible heist and steal a few under the noses of the handlers stationed everywhere.
My gaze ran over the tops of the stall doors, where the mounts' dark noses sniffed the air. Each door was padlocked and taller than me. A handler unlocked one and pulled out a dappled mare on a short lead, only taking a few steps to hand her off to an awaiting customer. So stealing outright was basically out of the question.
Touching a hand to my warm face, I pivoted to return to Alexander, who was haggling over prices with one of the men near the entrance. Discomfort unfurled in my stomach. My skin, already hot from the sun directly overhead, was flushed hotter by the sensation of being observed in secret.
I did my best to remain calm, subtly searching the faces of the people passing me by. They were all a blur. Except one. Standing to the left of the path I had to take to the entrance sat a massive man with shoulders hunched—but ever so slightly through his thin Paragonian clothing, the tautness of his limbs was visible. He was only pretending to be casual.
Letting my attention rove over him once and filing away his face in my mind for later, I advanced ahead, acutely aware of where he was. When I was closer, it was revealed that he had a thin sword strapped to his back. Just like me. I stepped carefully away, wishing I could run away as fast as my heart was pounding.
When I glanced back, he was not paying me any attention, now watching the impatient horses kick up dust with their hooves. My eyes narrowed. His averted attention seemed natural, not purposeful at all. But Alexander's often felt the same, and his desire to profit off my death was abundantly clear.
I was nearly there. Checking if the locket was still in the bag was too risky, so I refrained. Anxiously unsure if the man was watching now that my back was turned, I increased my pace until I heard Alexander's voice in the heavily accented Eastern Language.
"Drop it," I said in hurried Oceanic. "We need to go."
Giving the handler one last dirty look, he relented and we went out the exit together. I urged him to keep his face turned away; it was bad enough the man saw me for so long. As we passed a stationary carriage, I looked into its curtained glass window only to find the man in question rising from his seat in the distance.
"Gods." I gritted my teeth, wondering if the man was brave enough to attack while others were around. "There was a man," I told Alexander hurriedly. "Perhaps one of Daggen's." He gave no response.
