As the evening settled over Zilt, Remy dusted off her coat and stretched, letting out a mock sigh. "Alright, Z, I gotta go. If I'm late again, Dereck will cut my pay—again. Try not to miss me too much."
Zegion barely looked up from his work. "Yeah, yeah, big sis Remy, I miss you so much already."
Remy scoffed, flipping her coat over her shoulder. "At least sound a little convincing, will you? Tch, after all the help you get."
With a playful smirk, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the night, her long coat swaying behind her. The moment she was gone, Zegion turned toward a distant tree and spoke.
"You can come out now. She's gone."
A figure stepped from the shadows, his movements smooth and unhurried. The warm glow of the evening sun filtering through the trees revealed a tall man dressed in a well-worn waistcoat over a loose shirt, his dark trousers tucked into sturdy boots. A lute rested against his back, and his sharp eyes glinted with curiosity.
It was the Bard.
"To think you could sense me, even while Remy was here," the Bard mused, running a hand through his windswept hair. "That's quite something. She's usually sharper than most. But you—" his gaze narrowed slightly. "You don't reek of a demon. So, what exactly are you?"
Zegion leaned back, arms crossed. "Just a back-alley kid with a bit more knowledge than most. And in Zilt, we don't ask about pasts. I'm sure you know that."
The Bard chuckled. "Ah, yes. The unspoken rule. You don't dig into my past, I won't dig into yours. Fair enough."
Zegion tilted his head slightly. "But I am curious. You don't look like a treasure hunter, and you don't act like an adventurer. So what exactly are you searching for in the ruins?"
The Bard's eyes widened for a split second before his usual nonchalance returned. "Sharp one, aren't you? Alright, I'll tell you who I am—but only if you promise not to go blabbing to anyone."
Zegion groaned, waving a hand. "Nah, sounds like a hassle. I'm done for today anyway. See ya."
Before the Bard could react, Zegion pulled a makeshift door of thorns and leaves over his cave entrance and slipped past him with light steps.
The Bard watched him go, rubbing his chin. "Shadow Steps? That kid just keeps getting more interesting..."
His musing was cut short as his sharp ears picked up a faint conversation from the town. His easygoing smile faded, replaced by a sharp glint in his eyes.
"Now, where did those treasure hunters go? I hope they haven't broken anything..."
___________
Meanwhile, Zilt's Adventurers' Association was winding down for the night. Hunters and mercenaries, their armor dusted with dirt and streaked with dried blood, made their way toward the counters. Some carried small game—Ventys Rabbits with their agile limbs still twitching, and Firefoot Stags, their hooves faintly singed from their last desperate bursts of speed. Others dragged larger kills, like the hulking Wildrush Boars, their massive tusks glinting under the flickering lanterns. A few adventurers hauled in dismembered parts of greater beasts, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction as they exchanged bounties for coin. The scent of iron and damp fur lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of ale drifting from nearby taverns.
After collecting their earnings, the adventurers gradually filtered out, their heavy boots clanking against the cobbled streets as they moved toward the Rusty Axe Tavern. The rhythmic hum of conversation carried through the night as groups reminisced about the day's hunts, their laughter and grumbles blending into the familiar melody of Zilt's evening bustle. The promise of warm food and strong drink lured them inside, where the true end to their day awaited.
The tavern's wooden walls hummed with laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional burst of drunken storytelling. Seated in a dimly lit corner, a group of treasure hunters kept to themselves. Their worn leather gear, dirt-streaked cloaks, and pockets heavy with recent discoveries gave away their trade.
The conversation at the table was already buzzing with excitement when Remy arrived. The treasure hunters had recently made an unusual find—one that had caught the attention of both adventurers and merchants alike.
A peculiar artifact had been recovered from the outskirts of the ruins—a type of stone that could record sound and images when infused with mana. They called it an Echo Stone.
Remy was already at their table before they could even get comfortable. "Evening, Gunther, Geshu, Bira, Milly."
Milly, a petite woman with a sharp tongue, stared right into Remy's cat eyes. "No, Remy. No Echo Stones today either."
Gunther, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard, set his battle-axe against the table with a grunt, letting the conversation play out. Across from him, Bira, a thin robed man with an air of smugness, leaned in.
"Now, now, no need to be so harsh, Milly," Bira said, flashing a greasy smile. "Miss Remy, perhaps we could have a private conversation? I might be able to get you some Echo Stones from the Solana Guild."
Remy's lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. "No thanks. I've got friends in Solana already."
Bira's face twitched as nearby adventurers chuckled into their drinks, amused by his failed attempt at manipulation. But he quickly masked his frustration and leaned forward.
"You know, Remy, these Echo Stones aren't just some regular treasure. The Solana Merchant Guild took a huge interest in them the moment we brought them in. Makes you wonder—why would they want them so badly?"
Remy raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting the thought linger. She briefly considered pestering Zegion for the Echo Stones instead—his good reputation with the Solana Merchant Guild might make it easier to get her hands on them. The night continued, the moons rising higher as the tavern slowly emptied.
____________
Gunther's group left the tavern, taking their usual maze-like route through the back alleys. Bira was still muttering to himself about the Echo Stones, clearly unsettled by their significance. "Artifacts that can store voices and images… there's something unnatural about them." Their boots echoed against the cobblestones, the shadows stretching long under the dual moons—one bright white, the other with a bluish hue.
Then—
A presence appeared behind them instantly.
The group spun, hands on their weapons.
The Bard stood there, waiting.
Despite his usual waistcoat and casual attire, his stance was rigid, his posture unnervingly still.
"Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions," he said casually, "and you're going to answer honestly. Or else..."
Bira scoffed. "Or else what? Know your place, fool—"
He raised his hand, casting five fireballs in quick succession, each the size of a watermelon, crackling with heat and light.
But with a snap of the Bard's fingers, the fireballs vanished.
Gone. As if it had never existed.
The tension in the air shifted. The others took a cautious step back, suddenly aware that they had underestimated the Bard.
"I told you, didn't I?" the Bard murmured, tapping his temple. "Answer honestly, and you go your way. I go mine. Simple."
Gunther exhaled, nodding. "Fine. Ask."
"Did you enter the ruins where you found the Echo Stones?"
Gunther shook his head. "No. We found them on the outskirts. Some Winged Monkeys had gotten hold of them and were playing with them. We took the stones after... disposing of them."
"How many other parties have explored the deep parts of the ruins besides yours?"
Gunther's expression darkened. "Two more. But since they haven't returned... we all know what that means."
The Bard studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Not so hard, was it?"
Before they could react, the Bard's voice resonated in the air—soft, yet layered with an unnatural hum. A wave pulsed outward from his lips, invisible yet tangible, wrapping around each of them like a lingering whisper. For a moment, Gunther and his party stood still—expressionless, unmoving.
Then, in the next instant, the Bard was gone.
Gunther blinked, shaking his head. "What are you all standing around for? Let's go."
His team followed without hesitation. Only Bira hesitated, a flicker of something uncertain in his mind.
"What was I thinking about just now?" he muttered. "Ah, never mind. I'll remember later."
High above, the Bard watched from a rooftop, the wind ruffling his hair.
"For their sake, I hope they don't remember at all."
The twin moons gleamed over the silent alleys of Zilt.