"The Viscount is sponsoring a combat tournament, during the festival" she said. "It's to select young talents who'll in the Adventurer's Expedition coming up soon. It starts in roughly a month's time."
Keane listened, already piecing where she was headed. "So?"
"So," she continued, "we want you to enter, and win. We have seen your strength first hand, as far as young talents are concerned, you will surely come out on top."
"…And then what?"
"When you stand before the Viscount to receive your reward, we make our move."
He regarded her quietly.
Elara folded her hands atop the desk, posture as calm as her tone. "You're not killing anyone. You're simply ensuring we can get in. The Viscount is too well-guarded; Sylvi can't get close without being noticed, and there is no need for manslaughter, so this is the only way. You, on the other hand, will be center stage. Everyone's attention will be on you. All you have to do is create the opening."
Keane tilted his head, green eyes glinting faintly in the lamplight. "If that is all, you could just go ahead regardless of who wins." He said.
"No," Elara answered. "It has to be you, so Sylvi can go up with you."
"You don't have enough people for this, do you?"
"No," she admitted. "The Viscount's inner circle is guarded by mercenaries trained by royal knights. He rarely leaves his manor, and when he does, the city goes on alert. This festival is the only moment his attention will be divided."
Keane let her talk. He didn't interrupt, didn't nod, didn't even feign interest—just watched her carefully, memorizing the weight behind each word.
"I know what you're thinking," Elara went on, softening her tone. "You don't care about politics. But look outside that, this isn't politics anymore, it's survival. The man's greed is bleeding the city dry. If we don't act soon—"
"—he'll keep doing what he's been doing," Keane cut in flatly. "That's not my problem. Besides, its assassination, one that you have no say in, no need to try and buy my sympathy, I have none to spare."
Her gaze sharpened. "And if his greed starts reaching for people you know?"
He almost laughed at that. "I already told you, my people don't live with societies, it never will."
"Regardless, my answer is no. Though I am grateful for all you've done for me so far, I am not participating in whatever plot you are tied to."
Sylvi, standing near the window, didn't move at all—but her eyes lifted slightly toward him.
Elara didn't show a hint of surprise. "Then you refuse."
"Yes."
"Very well."
The ease of her acceptance was unsettling. He'd expected resistance, threats perhaps, maybe coercion, but instead she simply reached for the papers on her desk, gathering them with the quiet rustle of parchment.
"That's it?" he asked after a long moment.
Elara nodded. "You made your choice. We'll respect it."
He studied her face for a while, then with nothing left to do, he turned to the door and left.
Sylvi turned her gaze back to the window.
…
Keane left the Inn and walked rather aimlessly as he processed his plans, especially about visiting the adventurer's guild the following day.
Though he had first decided to join the mercenary guild and register as one, the mercenaries seemed disorganized for the most part, while the adventurers appeared to be top notch, at the very least, he hadn't seen anyone around.
"Guess I'll need to register tomorrow."
…
That night, he didn't go back to the inn. Even if they'd respected his choice, he wasn't foolish enough to sleep in a room they controlled. The Veil of Shadows or any assassination group for that matter, weren't groups that believed in leaving loose ends, and Elara had just admitted she owed them a debt.
He didn't plan on being payment, so he stayed outside. He moved through the alleys until he found a small alcove beside a shuttered apothecary—a spot dark enough to be invisible from the street.
He sat down, back against the cold wall, cloak drawn loosely around him. His senses stayed sharp, though.
By the time the first hint of dawn began to touch the rooftops, Keane was still awake, watching.
His breath fogged faintly in the morning chill before a sigh escaped his lips. He hadn't gotten up to an hour of sleep because he was nervous.
"I need to find a way to get past this system and increase my stats," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.