PH1RE'S P.O.V
The sun was just beginning to rise as Maya and I made our way through the village, trying our best to act casual. In this regard, I was absolutely terrible at acting.
"Stop looking around," Maya whispered sharply, followed by a tired sigh.
"Sorry. It's just hard not to."
We were headed to the butcher's shop. After Ethan came up with a realization—and a plan he still refused to fully explain—he told us to go about our day as normally as possible. Personally, I wasn't sure how to live normally after watching people explode into red mist, but I was trying.
Bryn, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected. He'd volunteered to guard the construction site with a smile on his face. Ethan went off to speak with the mayor and continue his investigation, while Maya and I were tasked with returning the money we received from selling the Sparkhogs.
Since the boars had exploded—literally—the item we received payment for was technically... gone. I'd suggested we return the money, partly out of guilt for the butcher and his apprentice's deaths, but also because it might help us gather information. If Ethan was right, someone marked with the sigil had to be nearby to trigger the spell that precisely. Returning the money might draw that person out.
I had even received a rare compliment from Ethan for the idea, which had me feeling oddly proud.
Unfortunately...
"Arrrrgghhh!"
Maya's groan echoed through the narrow street.
"Something the matter, Maya?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow, already knowing the answer.
"You!" she snapped, jabbing a finger into my side. "Why do I have to be the one carrying the money!?"
I glanced down at the heavy coin pouch clutched in her hands, its metallic clinking loud with every irritated stomp she took. "Because you're the one who haggled the price," I replied, smirking. "Technically, it's your sale to reverse."
She groaned, holding the pouch up as if it were made of molten lava. "I negotiated a great deal. That's not something you just give back! This is against every principle of good business!"
"And yet," I said, nodding ahead to the butcher's shop coming into view, "here we are."
Maya shot me a sideways glare. "You know, for a guy with only one spell, you sure have a lot of opinions."
"Hey, I'm not the one suffering a moral crisis over returning blood money," I replied with a grin. "That's your burden."
"It's your idea!" she hissed, throwing her hands up.
I chuckled, but the levity was short-lived. As the shop came into view, we both slowed our pace. The door was still broken from the day before—splintered and hanging off one hinge. A pair of town guards stood nearby, speaking quietly as they surveyed the area.
Maya and I exchanged a glance.
"You think they'll let us in?" she whispered.
"I think they'll let you in," I whispered back. "I'm not great with words. You're the charming one, remember?"
She rolled her eyes, muttered something about useless fireballs, and stepped forward with practiced confidence. I trailed behind, doing my best to look harmless and not like someone who might spontaneously combust livestock.
One of the guards looked up. "Can we help you?"
Maya lifted the coin pouch. "We're here to return this. It was paid to us by the butcher before… well, before everything."
The guard studied her carefully. "That's honorable of you."
"No," Maya said flatly, "it's Loid's idea."
I coughed, trying not to look too pleased.
The guard gestured to a crate by the door. "We're not letting anyone inside until the mages from the capital arrive. But you can leave the pouch there. We'll include it in the inventory report."
Maya hesitated, clearly loath to part with it, but eventually placed the pouch gently onto the crate like it was a dearly beloved child she had to abandon. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she stepped back.
As we began to walk off, a voice called from within.
"Hello! Who are you two?"
Maya and I both froze.
The voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp—clear, refined, and utterly unfamiliar. I turned slowly toward the butcher's shop, expecting another guard or maybe one of the town's officials.
Instead, a young man stepped out from the shadows of the ruined doorway.
He was clean, too clean—his dark clothes perfectly pressed, not a single speck of blood or dirt anywhere on him. His short blond hair looked freshly combed, and a strange glint shone in his pale blue eyes. He didn't look like a laborer, a soldier, or a merchant. And definitely not like someone who belonged in a butcher's shop that had just become a crime scene.
The guards straightened immediately. One of them even gave a slight nod.
"We weren't told anyone was inside," Maya said, her voice guarded.
The stranger smiled, smooth and measured. "Ah, just arrived this morning. I'm a scribe from the capital—sent ahead of the main investigative team. I'm here to catalog everything the mages might overlook."
"Catalog?" I asked, "Didn't know the capital sent scribes for blood magic cases."
In Raize the Realms, Scribes were the name for user's of a particularly popular spell series known as the Scribe spell series, It was quite useful for finding, storing and hiding information and as such became popular in guilds such as the "Scholar's Union" and "Catalogs & Cartographs" among others.
He chuckled softly, unbothered. "Usually, they don't. But this incident had… interesting notes." His gaze flicked to the pouch we had just placed on the crate. "Returning money? That's quite noble of you. Most adventurers would've kept it."
"We're not most adventurers," Maya said, her tone edging colder.
"I can see that," the scribe replied, stepping forward. "Red Ravens, right?"
My stomach sank slightly. He said it with such familiarity—like he already knew the answer.
"That's right," I replied, masking my unease. "You've heard of us?"
He gave a half-smile. "Who hasn't?"
That wasn't true. Most people outside the region either hadn't heard of the Red Ravens or assumed we'd been disbanded.
If he really had heard of us, then he wasn't just well-informed.
He was looking for us.
"My name is Cornelius Cordell," he said smoothly, offering a charming smile. "And may I ask yours?"
Maya glanced at me, the unspoken question clear in her eyes: Do we tell him?
I gave the slightest nod.
"Loid and Maya," she said, keeping her tone neutral. "That's all you need to know."
"Ah," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Short, direct. Efficient. Very Red Raven."
Maya's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "You seem awfully familiar with our guild for a scribe."
Cornelius gave a small, knowing smile, taking a leisurely step around the crate. "Well," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, "I make it my business to stay informed."
He paused, his gaze flicking to the pouch still resting on the crate before returning to us. "To tell you the truth, I've been unable to find any useful information all morning. I was just about to find somewhere to have breakfast. Perhaps you'd like to join me? We can share details about our investigations. I would be greatly in your debt if you accepted."
Maya blinked, clearly taken aback by his sudden offer. "Uh… I'm not sure if…"
"I'll pay," he interjected smoothly, cutting her off with an effortless grin.
"Deal!" Maya exclaimed immediately, her decision made without a second's hesitation.
I sent her a glare—our unspoken dynamic not lost on me as I silently grumbled about impulsiveness. I looked back at Cornelius, who was still smiling at me, that faint glimmer of amusement in his pale blue eyes.
—————————————————
We followed Cornelius out of the dilapidated butcher's shop and into the cool morning air. The town was still waking up; golden light filtered through sparse clouds as vendors began arranging their stalls. Cornelius led us toward a small café tucked into a quiet corner of the square—an upscale place, at least by our usual breakfast standards. Cornelius led the way with a light, easy stride.
"Let's go inside," he said, gesturing toward the entrance. "I insist."
Maya and I exchanged a quick glance. My skepticism was still simmering beneath the surface, but… I couldn't deny that I was hungry. Still, I kept my guard up.
The café had an old-world charm—polished mahogany walls, warm brass fixtures, and the mingling aromas of freshly baked bread and rich, hand-ground coffee. Cornelius found a quiet corner booth and motioned for us to sit. It didn't take long before a server came to take our order.
Since we weren't paying, Maya—who lived by the motto "Food tastes better when it's free, and best when you're paid to eat it"—ordered something expensive. She was soon served a steaming plate of Dathun.
Dathun was a soup made from a particular species of turtle, with the diner expected to crack open the shell themselves to get to the meat. The shell doubled as a bowl, holding the rest of the dish: savory gelatin, boiled potatoes, stewed green peas with mint, all swimming in a spiced broth infused with marjoram and thyme. A jug of lemon juice sat beside it for drinking.
Meanwhile, both Cornelius and I opted for mutton with gravy and cream, accompanied by a pot of tea. I actually would've preferred lemon juice too, but I was doing my best not to be associated with Maya's chaos right now. Besides, it's common courtesy to order the same thing as your host—to not intrude.
I just wished Maya would realize that.
We ate quickly. It didn't take long before the plates were cleared away, and when asked if we wanted dessert, Maya—despite my whispered protests—ordered a slice of chocolate cake. Naturally, Cornelius followed suit.
"All right," he said, lifting a forkful of cake, "now that breakfast is out of the way…"
He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and smiled.
"Let's talk."
"Wow," he said, eyes widening, "this is really good."
"Right?" Maya agreed, already halfway through her own slice.