The marketplace in Lionmane used to be one of the greatest sights in the Isovine Empire. Merchants and traders from all corners of the empire and beyond used to set up shop here for the bustling crowds to spend their hard-earned coin on various wares and foods.
Now it seemed at its bare bones.
Winter had made it feel cold and dark, but this was no excuse for the poor showing of merchants who wanted to make some coin and the patrons who wanted to spend it.
Chrysanthemum Sagard had spent a few months here now, disheartened by the number of poor and crippled on the streets that tried to take residence near the merchants. The poor had always been here, that was no illusion, but the number had increased exponentially, and with the merchants and patrons dwindling, their appearance was more apparent than normal.
Walking on the cobbled stones into the main square, Chrys spotted a man sitting on the streets with two stumps for legs. She watched as everyone passed the man as if he never existed, quietly raising his hand for a spare coin, yet no one paid attention to his request.
The moment Chrys hoped that someone would pay him attention was the moment she wished he was ignored.
Two city guards spotted him. Quickly they walked up to him, terrorising him at every opportunity. Treating him less than an animal as they kicked and spat at the poor man whose only fault was his determination to live.
The pure sadness that gripped Chrys' heart was something she wished she could ignore, but this was the reality and familiarity of Lionmane that she had come to expect. The city was extremely poor and the strong were determined to lay siege on the weak. These soldiers could pick on one of a number of the homeless beggars that littered the streets, but this one couldn't fight back, he was an easy target and the city guard enjoyed terrorising him.
Chrys had rarely smiled in Lionmane since she parted from her mistress and dear friend Loldirr Aex-Igh. Watching the true Empress fleeing this city had brought tears to her eyes, but Chrys knew that one day she would return. With that in mind, Chrys would do all she could to make sure the city was ready for the last remaining Aex-Igh to sit on the Isovine throne.
She walked over to a merchant selling bread and almost turned her nose up at the obvious stale loaf that sat lifeless on the stall. Her disgust turned to frustration when the merchant demanded double what one would pay for fresh bread outside Lionmane, yet this was the reality of the city. For sixteen winters, Emperor Arnaud III had bled this city and the empire dry of coin. The last four winters were by far the hardest ever since his new blue-haired concubine, Nimue, slept in his bed and encouraged his wars with Ruvia. The devastation to the empire had been rapid, rebuilding it would be anything but a quick process.
Humming a tune to herself, Chrys moved over to a linen cart to touch the exotic silk from Alzerbaad. Rare items that would have travelled thousands of miles to get here. However, as the fake merchant with his fake smile told fake tales on how he had travelled months to reach here, the coarseness of the linen gave away the secret of its fake origin and incredibly fake price.
This was Lionmane. Corrupt, poor and depressing, enough to even dampen the spirits of the life-loving Chrysanthemum Sagard.
Chrys was drawn to a sheet of paper posted on the side of the merchant's cart. Its words etched enormously in the paper, shouting to the world 'Nightengale, Dead or Alive, 5'000 gold coins'
When corruption abounds, vigilantes appear, and the Nightengale had caused untold mayhem for the city guard and the Emperor of Lionmane. Until a few months ago, no one had heard of the Nightengale, now you couldn't enter a tavern or bathhouse without the Nightengale being on everyone's lips.
Just a few moons ago, Chrys had seen a similar flyer, yet it was only two thousand gold coins at that time. With all the poverty that was rampant in the city, the city guard had hoped that someone would be desperate enough to claim the prize, but little did the city guard understand that what was stolen from the nobility within the city, was placed back into the hands of the people.
No one knew what the Nightengale looked like. They were meticulous, cautious and efficient. As a result, the enigma's reputation was becoming more profound with every strike.
Chrys watched as more guards entered the square, eager to push out as many of the vagrants as possible. This wasn't standard for the city guard, something was happening, and when something was happening, it meant that the Nightengale was likely to strike again. Chrys was no warrior, but she knew the marketplace was a perfect place to strike whatever the city guard was preparing for.
Staying where she was would be dangerous so without hesitation, Chrys made for the courtyard away from the marketplace and into the congested streets of the city, but as she walked forward with purpose, the city guard had already set up positions to examine every person attempting to leave the marketplace.
Chrys continued, eager to escape the chaos, yet she was immediately stopped by the guards that eyed her up and down with caution.
"State your business, woman." the first guard said, his arm raised just above Chrys' breast.
The second flanked him, his spear resting against his shoulder.
Chrys looked at him, her blue eyes focused on his dark brown irises full of bitterness. "Well, I was leaving the marketplace until you stopped me," she replied, a hint of frustration ringing in her voice.
"Aye, I get that," the guard replied, "but you ain't bought nought, so state your business."
Chrys looked around, examining the guards as they slowed the pace of all trying to leave. It was when the towering figure of a Lionguard walked into the square, she realised that whatever was about to happen was of utmost importance.
"Well, you see," Chrys started, flicking back her mousy brown hair, "I woke up in the morning, and had craving for bread and blueberry jam. So as I awoke, I washed and dressed before heading to the cupboards to gather myself some of that gorgeous blueberry and bread. However, I realised that I had created myself a dilemma, as I did not have any bread. Now, I realised, it is impossible for me to create myself some blueberry jam sandwiches if I lack something as essential as bread, therefore I had to do something in order to rectify this problem..."
The two guards looked at each other with confusion as Chrys continued to spout her dilemma over jam sandwiches. It wasn't until the second guard raised his hand abruptly that she stopped.
"Woah, Woah, Woah! We didn't ask for your life story, we asked for you to state your business."
Chrys crossed her arms, a small frown burrowed itself into her forehead. "Yes, you did, and yet I feel that you can not understand the answer unless I explain the gravity of the situation."
"Gravity... Where do you come up with these words?" the first guard asked.
Chrys smiled, her dimples sinking deep into her soft cheeks, "well my da' taught me to be eloquent, and speak with vigour."
"Elo what?" he asked again.
The second guard hit the first one in the arm, "Tis irrelevant, I still want to know why you're here."
"Well..."
"Short version," he commented abruptly, cutting directly across Chrys.
"To buy bread, obviously," Chrys explained.
"So where's your bread?" the first guard asked.
Chrys frowned, "Have you seen the state of the bread? Certainly not fit for blueberry jam!"
Both soldiers looked at her in a state of confusion, stunned by her frank response.
"Still," Chrys continued, "if you hadn't distracted me from my bread hunting, I am sure I would have located bread suitable enough for my blueberry's. Why is there such a ruckus within the square?"
"Ruckus?" the first guard asked.
"A disruption," the second commented, struggling to keep up with Chrys' quick-flowing speech.
"Indeed," Chrys commented, looking around at the various people in the square being thoroughly checked before being allowed to leave.
"It's the Nightengale. We are looking for his agents." the first guard responded.
The second abruptly hit him on the shoulder, "we are not supposed to talk about such things."
The first guard turned towards his colleague, pointing towards Chrys as he answered. "I don't think this woman is going to tell everyone what's happening."
"I agree," Chrys confirmed, "most people don't take me seriously."
The second guard frowned as he looked down at the short woman in front of him, her dimples sinking into her cheeks despite his frown. "We are here on the Emperor's business, rooting out spies and such."
Chrys chuckled, "Spies in the marketplace, that's absurd! I mean it's not as if the Nightengale would be interested in the stale bread in the square."
"No he wouldn't," the second guard frowned, "but pomegranates for the lady Nimue is a different matter!"
"Is there an issue here?" a booming voice came from behind the guards.
As the words were spoken, both guards seemed to freeze up and became exceedingly anxious. The rattle of armour gradually grew louder as the two guards gingerly turned towards the large frame of the Lionguard.
The Lionguard's golden armour enveloped the man inside of it. The lion's head on his shoulders, with mouths wide open, was enough to cause Chrys to take a small step backwards anxiously. As the golden-haired man's blue eyes focused on the tiny figure of the woman in front of the guards, all commotion around them seemed to disappear. Chrys could feel her heartbeat quicken as the large sword strapped to the Lionguard's back cracked against his armour and as the darkness in his eyes grew bleaker still, Chrys curtsied in the hope to diffuse the situation.
"No milord," the first guard spoke.
"Then why do I find you both still talking to this peasant?" the Lionguard commented.
The disdain in his voice brought a chill to Chrys, and the fear expelled by the two guards made her realise that this had become a delicate situation.
"I apologise, milord," Chrys explained, "these men asked me of my purpose here and I have a tendency to over speak when nervous."
"Did I give you permission to speak?" the Lionguard spoke venomously.
"She speaks true Sir Searmundr, her words have flowed effortlessly since we requested an explanation."
Sir Searmundr's focus was now on the trembling Chrys as she lowered her head to the floor. "Your accent is not from here?" he asked.
Chrys kept her eyes down, aware that the gaze of the Lionguard was directly on her. One wrong word could end her life, therefore she needed to choose her words wisely. "I'm from the Isles of Clover, milord."
"Isles of Clover? I have heard of them. Isn't that in Ravenscourt domain?" Sir Searmundr replied.
Chrys was more than aware of the recent state of war between Lionmane and Ravenscourt and as she could see the bulky golden gauntlets of the Lionguard rest just above the dagger strapped to his belt, Chrys could feel a bead of sweat slide down her forehead. "It is, milord, yet I have not resided there in many winters," she explained. A semi-truth.
"And why do you reside in Lionmane?"
"Mostly for work, milord, hoping to make an opportunity for myself." another semi-truth.
There was a silence from the towering knight. Could he see through her lies?
"Be on your way, the girl from the Isle of Clover, but be aware that my many eyes in the city will be watching you closely. Should you be seen as an agent of Ravenscourt, understand that I will be the one to make your blood flow on the street." Sir Searmundr commented flippantly and without remorse.
Chrys failed to raise her eyes but curtsied elegantly before briskly walking away from the two soldiers and knight. Her breathing had become slightly erratic from the encounter, her heart raced wildly as she pushed her way through the irritated crowd.
Sitting on a bench some hundred yards from the main commotion, she placed her hand on her chest, carefully breathing in and out to regain her composure and senses. She had heard of Sir Searmundr and his reputation. How a peasant, and sometimes even a noble's life meant little to him. As the lady Nimue's personal bodyguard as well, his lack of morality was likely encouraged to flourish by the cruel concubine of the emperor.
Chrys calmed herself. If Sir Searmundr had any inclination of her true intentions in Lionmane, she would not have walked away from the square.
Unravelling a small note from her pocket she looked around to ensure that no eyes were on her. Content that her actions were incognito, she slipped the paper between an almost unnoticeable crack within the bench where she sat. Instantly, she stood, walking away from the market in a calm and relaxed manner even though the turmoil in her mind was anything but. Glancing behind her, she watched as a figure reached for the note that she had left behind.
Chrys didn't look back again but continued away from the bench and the market. A smile crept onto her face as the anxiety was now replaced with hope as she relived the words she had earlier scribed onto the paper.
'Intelligence confirmed, begin the attack, Nightengale'
Within moments, shouting from the marketplace had begun and the clashes of metal could be heard from afar. But for Chrys, it meant only one thing. The people of Lionmane would be feasting on pomegranates this night.