Inside the tavern, Alvyn the gnome is pacing back and forth, crossbow in hand. The massive wolf that was once Gotavv lies dead against the wall, a mound of fur and blood. Though every entrance and window has been covered up in one way or another, cracks of light still shine through, reminding him of his vulnerability. He is tense, to say the least, and so when he hears a noise from the balcony, he jumps nearly half of his height.

  Alvyn points the crossbow in the direction of the balcony, but nothing is approaching. Just the tarp over the door swaying from the breeze of the ocean. The noise is a familiar three-note tune, the same one that Leylin taught him. He drops the crossbow as he realizes what he is supposed to do. Alvyn grabs a candle from the bar and a firework from the barrel nearby. Before he can second-guess himself, he lights the end of the firework and sticks it through the opening behind the tarp. “”

  The firework shoots off, and it is visible all throughout the sky. The stars begin to shift, and the gnome scrambles to back away from door.

     “

  Further down the road, the sound of Skarann’s voice reverberates inside the armored chariot. Mask still over her face, Leylin looks through the reinforced window to see a brilliant cascade of colors descending over the water, and the moon hovering over the approximate location of the tavern. She turns to Emmitt. “Now, now!”

  They feel a lifting from behind, and the chariot begins to roll forward. After rolling a few yards down the road, the back lifts again, and they roll down once more. Emmitt watches carefully through the front window as he continues to summon his invisible wedges, gradually propelling them down the path.

  After a few repetitions they are moving much faster, and several buildings become visible in the distance. Most prominent is a large chalet on the edge of the cliff, with bright lights shining through the curtained windows. Several figures are moving around on the balcony outside. Across the road, and slightly closer to their position, is a smaller two-story building that appears to be unoccupied. Emmitt glances between the two locations, unsure where to go.

  The sky begins to shift. The stars swirl around in streaks, and a familiar booming voice echoes through the carriage. “SO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO TRICK ME WITH SOME FIREWORKS? YOU’RE GOING TO SNEAK AROUND AND HIDE LIKE LITTLE STUPID RATS? I’LL FIND YOU, JUST YOU WAIT. NOBODY HIDES FROM THE MOON.”

  “We need to get inside now,” Marco says.

  “Way ahead of you.” Emmitt lifts the carriage from an angle, tilting them towards the smaller building. They just barely avoid crashing into the building itself, instead tumbling into a ditch in the trees. All three of them are thrown to the side as the carriage is overturned. With no time to tend their bruises, they adjust their masks and clothes and run out of the carriage to the building.

  “

  “Probably not.” Emmitt looks around the first floor, which seems to be some kind of reception area. The front desk doesn’t appear to have anything useful.

  Leylin kneels down nearby to pick a piece of paper off of the floor. Another star chart. Without asking she runs up the stairs and out of sight. Emmitt and Marco reluctantly follow after.

  “ this guy scares me,” Leylin calls back.

  The first thing they see when they arrive at the top is the painting of Fitzgerald Fauntleroy McCappon grinning at them with his top hat and monocle. His eyes seem to follow them as they walk across the room.

  “I feel bad for anyone who has to work for him,” Marco says.

     “

  McCappon Trading Company: Emergency Protocols

  Sugar Isles Department of Asset Recovery: Letter of Recommendation

  Vilma Solberg: Credentials

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  After failing to uncover any additional star charts, Leylin quickly loses interest and runs off to investigate the trunk to the side. She pulls out what appears to be the pelt of a large boar. “Friends, look, look!” She moves the mouth of the boar as a puppet as she waves it back and forth.

  Emmitt and Marco briefly look up before turning back to the documents.

     “

  Marco remains silent as he ruffles through the last of the materials. Emmitt is watching him, looking like there’s something he needs to say. It takes a moment for him to work up the courage. “So who exactly were those people in the warehouse? The ones with the white armor with the halo sigil.”

  “It’s a mercenary group,” Marco says. “Seraphim. That’s the sigil. They have people all over.”

  Marco continues to look down at the documents, though it’s clear he isn’t really reading them anymore. Emmitt stands uncomfortably in place. “These ones seemed to know you though. Especially that one guy with the big gauntlet. You knew them, didn’t you?”

  Leylin gives a brief glance up at Marco, who is maintaining a distant expression as he stares at the desk. She turns back and decides to stay out of it.

  Marco continues to avoid eye contact. “I knew them, yeah. We used to work together. Now we don’t. Not much to say.” He shuffles past Emmitt and walks to the opposite end of the room, where there is a small cabinet to look through. There doesn’t seem to be much inside, but that doesn’t stop him.

  “It seemed a little more tense than if you had simply been former comrades,” Emmitt says.

  “Uh huh.”

  “There was something else going on, wasn’t there?”

  “Maybe. They did seem to be hiding something.”

  “I mean something between you and them.”

  Marco opens the bottom drawer and looks through it without speaking.

  Emmitt sighs. “Look, if there’s a chance we run into these people again, we need to know what the story is. You owe me at least some kind of explanation.”

  “I don’t owe you shit.” Marco stands up and glares at him. “I’ve known you for less than a year. We’ve done two jobs together, that’s it. I don’t need to explain my whole backstory, it’s not important right now. I only came here because Gabriel promised us payment, and I’m only staying here because we’re essentially trapped. So let’s just keep moving before we get killed, alright?”

  Emmitt is silent. He nods and pulls the mask back over his face. Leylin, watching with an uncomfortable expression, directs her attention back to the trunk of pelts. With a sigh, Marco turns away and the three of them continue to search without speaking.

  ***

  Somewhere in the woods, at the top of a hill, is a small cabin that sits in the shadow of the moonlight. Two figures masked with jaguar pelts ascend to step onto the balcony at the front. Vilma, still holding her harpoon in one hand, takes a moment to admire the building in front of them. “These are truly excellent properties we have here. Unfortunately we haven’t found the proper class of tenants to occupy them, but that should make it perfect for our purposes today.”

  Maria is looking in the opposite direction, up at the sky. There is a loud bang, and a burst of colors fills the darkness as the firework goes off. Beneath the cloth covering her face, she breaks out into a wide grin, filled with wonder. For a moment the exhaustion throughout her body fades away, and she feels awake.

  “This is not what we need to be focusing on right now.” Vilma takes Maria by the shoulders and directs her vision back towards the house. “It’s exactly this sort of thing that has been negatively affecting your performance lately. Here, you can set up all of your equipment inside.”

  She directs her through the door and into the small living space. Safely out of the cover of the moonlight, Vilma removes the cloth from her face but keeps the jaguar pelt as a hood. She examines the interior of the property as Maria places her charts and lumoscope onto the central table.

  “Now what do we have here?” Vilma kneels down to look at a trail of mud running to the bedroom at the back of the cabin. Shaking her head with a disappointed expression, she kicks open the door with a sudden violent intent, harpoon raised.

  Inside the bedroom are a man and a woman with masks covering their faces, a single eye on the front. They are trying to read a map that is open on the bed, arguing and pointing with frantic expressions.

  “The others are probably dead by now, we need to get out of here.”

  “And go where? We’re trapped. We don’t know where the silver weapons went, and the way we came from is completely flooded. The only thing we can do isohcrap.”

  The masked bandits turn to face Vilma, recoiling in fear. The man instinctively reaches for his sword, but remembers that they are unarmed. Vilma makes a point of brandishing her harpoon. “This is very shameful to see. I understand that these are difficult times, but this still is not your property, and you are still trespassing McCappon Company land. I suspect your behavior is unsavory in other ways as well.”

  “Hold on,” the man says, “we’re not trying to hurt anyone. We just needed somewhere to take shelter.”

  Vilma tilts her head and smiles with her mouth, eyes wide. The bandits stand in anxious silence until one of them finally breaks. “Alright, fine, we’ll leave right away. Just let us gather our stuff.”

  Without a response, Vilma shuts the door and walks back over to Maria. She takes a seat and places her harpoon down on the table. “You will need to work quickly. Unfortunately even our own property will not remain safe as things progress. There is nothing more dangerous than desperate people, after all.”

  Maria gives a nervous glance outside. A laser beam appears to be coming down from the edge of the moon, several of the trees catching on fire. She looks back at the bedroom, the door still closed, then to Vilma, who is sitting in place with perfect posture. Hands trembling, she takes the lumoscope and begins to make her recordings.