Soaked in morning sunlight, the patchwork streets of the Misty Canopies clattered with the growing throngs of the morning rush. Flocking birds with beaks in an array of citrusy colours rustled their way through the trees, soaring over the mist-clouded river towards the clear blue skies beyond. Lodged into the tallest tree, the bones of a former river barge protruded over the scrap-forged streets, a large clock cast in dented brass set into its outward face. Its hands jutted past the early morning hour, and on cue, the vessel's horn blared its bassy call. The daylit world had resumed its course.

    At regular intervals throughout the Canopies, manned gates protected the pulley lifts that carried residents down to the city proper. While the lifts were broader than the mineshaft cages below, the Canopies they served were a busy, densely populated space, and their log-carved platforms filled out quickly at peak times. Last-second arrivals were forced onto the lift's barest edges in an attempt to wring as many silver pieces out of each trip as possible.

    By foul circumstance, the group learned that final lesson the hard way, and Talwyn found herself jostled and bullied away from the others. The flimsy scrap metal railing shuddered and clanged under her nervous hand, and the rabble refused to budge to let her through. Between the hordes of bodies, the chain heaved and screeched through the platform's centre, thrusting and jerking under unseen forces. She closed her eyes, desperate to think of anything but the long, imminent drop to the mist-veiled cityscape below.

    A searching grasp found Talwyn's shoulder, and behind a pair of sour-faced humans, Darius' beaming smile and sharp, well-cut features awaited behind the parting of her eyelids. He squeezed through, found his balance and, once again, offered his hand towards her. "It took me a while to get used to these things, too. I much prefer the other way down."

    "I'll be okay. It's just...I'm not the biggest fan of heights," Talwyn answered, balancing herself between the barely-there railing and the stalwart support of Darius' arm. Suddenly, her thoughts broke free of the chain's wailing chant. "Wait, there's another way down?"

    "Not that the Syndicate would tell you about, but you can find almost anything around here if you know where to look." Darius nodded past Talwyn's shoulder, a sly glint in his eye. Bound to a dark platform corner, a rope ladder cascaded down the winding trunk of a tall, sun-streaked palm tree. Its wide rungs swung from side to side, pivoting around an invisible central axis. A trail of three humanoid shapes scurried down its length before it reeled itself back up to the raised platform.

    As the mist concealed the clandestine ladder, Darius adjusted the brim of his hat and sighed. "So, how long have you and your friend been in town?"

    Talwyn focused on the half-elf's attention. After the duskclaw attack the previous evening and her dive into his emotions, Darius lacked the same vague, shifting, intimidating aura that strangers carried everywhere. "Kerensa and I got here about a week ago," she said, the worries draining from her teal eyes to make way for sparks of relief. "We rode out of Darsinia with a trade caravan. The journey was pretty long, but it was amazing to see the jungle up close, to be that far away from huge crowds of people. It was so quiet in a way, so...peaceful."

    "You don't like crowds, I take it?" His smile remained, yet there was a shred of sympathy at the heart of his cheer. "I've never been through the Warding Wilds, you know. Our skyship sailed right over it, but the one time we stopped for bad weather, the captain steered away to land on a cliff."

    "A skyship? You came here on a skyship?" The hairs along the back of Talwyn's neck pricked up. Most skyships served at the command of crowns or councils, and of the smattering of privately owned vessels, few offered transportation to strangers. Those that did made sure passengers paid – generously – for the privilege. She and Kerensa had contemplated hitching a ride on a skyship for approximately two seconds before agreeing that the funds would be better spent on a month's worth of provisions.

    At a loss, Talwyn repeated the question that had hung over her since their first meeting. "Who are you?"

    Suddenly, the ground shook beneath Talwyn's feet, and the lift cracked to a solid halt. She lifted her lowered gaze to see the bustling streets, blushing sandstone structures, and looming trees that made up the heart of Trocari. They had arrived, and the bodies around her fidgeted until the squeal of wooden hinges released them from the lift's cramped confines.

    Darius tapped her arm and winked, a stray streak of sunlight swirling in his eyes with an opalescent glow. "We're just a group of curious travellers," he said as he motioned for them to follow the departing crowd. At some point during the descent, he had shifted their footing to position himself along the railing, keeping Talwyn safely away from the platform's precarious edge. "Now, we should catch up with the others."

    As they left, the pulley lift's city-side operators slowly paused their brief drinks respite. The duo, a bearded, russet-skinned human that would have appeared imposingly buff and broad were it not for his bald half-giant companion, did not perceivably communicate with each other, yet both knew to stop and watch at once. Their pupils sharpened as they focused not on Talwyn and Darius themselves, but the space around them, as if ethereal beings fluttered by their side.

    It was then that Talwyn noticed the intricacies hidden in their body art. Mahogany-hued lines and dots sat beneath each of their eyes, and on their necks, in the same shade of dye, lay a pair of matching tattoos. One featured two serpentine lines joined at the top, while the other had a pointed arrow forming a diagonal cross with a straight line. By the time Talwyn turned back to see them, they had resumed their silent break.

    The extra attention did not phase Darius, if he had noticed it at all. Once they regrouped with the others, he led them along the overflowing walkways of the main thoroughfare, crossing beneath a string of dormant oil lanterns into the city's western reaches.

    A quiet breeze confirmed their distance from the clamour and labours of the riverside. Whereas cramped, stout terraces filled Trocari's central districts, here stood only grand, vast, vibrant estates. Behind soaringly high walls lurked tall, broad manors that banished the endless swathes of reddish, rough-hewn sandstone with smooth bricks, sparkling granite, exquisitely painted woods, and other materials specially imported for the purpose. Tamed foliage and magically conjured lights encircled elaborate water features, the passing eye led to the skilful displays of artistry by winding trails of tiled paving. Every gate provided an unashamed snapshot of the treasures to be found in the ever-changing markets of Trocari.

    Every gate save for the one Darius chose, that was. "Here we are."

    "What do you mean 'here we are'?" Kerensa protested as she looked up at the estate before them. Save for themselves and a passing courier, the streets were empty. "You said you were taking us to a tea room, didn't you?"

    "Relax," Arlo said, flicking a stray petal of tree blossom from their shoulder. "There'll be plenty of tea inside. They can't get enough of the damn stuff around here."

    The property was large like its neighbours, yet its limestone-trimmed brick exterior was decidedly less grandiose. No elaborate features adorned its front, no dancing lights cast a colourful glow on the building's face, and heavy shutters blocked prying eyes out from each of its plain windows. Planters held plain, tidy hedges with small circles of flowers at their base, yet their colours seemed to shrink away under close study. Save for Darius' confidence, nothing beckoned the group to approach.

    Passing through the gate, Darius led the troop to the front door and knocked. A long, sombre pause followed, heavy and silent enough to summon the first syllables of suspicion onto Talwyn's tongue. Before she spoke, a series of small clicks heralded the grinding of metal on metal, and the door opened by barely an inch to reveal the unspoiled darkness of the house's interior.

    A heavy breath stirred from behind the door, and the curl of a scarred, deep brown horn peeked past the slim opening. Its owner followed, revealing themselves as a short, older demon with wine-red skin and shoulder-length hair that sheened a distinctive infernal black shade. "H-hello," they said, fiddling with the collar of their fine white shirt. After a moment, they met Darius' eye, and their trembling eased. "Oh, it's you. You've returned so soon."

    "We have, and we've brought guests," Darius said with a gesture towards the shapes of Talwyn and Kerensa over his shoulder. "Is now a bad time?"

    "Not at all, no," the figure answered in a low voice. A final chain slid loose, and the door opened to its fullest as the person inside bowed. Behind them, a thin, pointed tail swayed around their flawless black trousers. "Greetings, both of you. I am Grisha, the housekeeper. The lord is in his study, I believe. Come, I shall show you to him."

    Like its exterior, the building's entryway was tidy and unremarkable. Varnished woodwork shifted silently beneath neat verdant carpets, and brassy doorhandles stayed dull against the snatches of daylight from the windows. On either side, towering bookcases rose up to just below the ceiling, their shelves overflowing with clothbound volumes on topics as diverse as divinity and interior design. Bleak, muted paintings lined the walls, though there was no clue as to the lord's identity. The sole portrait on display depicted an elegantly dressed, yet totally anonymous, female elf. Tangle loitered by the picture with a fascinated stare, only moving as Arlo reached back to take a fistful of her cloak.

    Grisha paused at the foot of the staircase and kneeled. A short snap split the air, and when they rose, the remains of a disarmed tripwire lay at their feet. They began to ascend, climbing slowly and swapping sides seemingly at random. "Mind your step. The lord is a...cautious man."

    Checking the spots that the housekeeper avoided, Talwyn all but choked on her surprise. The staircase was laden with slender, camouflaged pressure plates.

    The upper level opened out onto a long corridor flanked by countless doors, yet Grisha paused by one near the top of the staircase. They knocked, then cracked the door open to reveal a spacious, well-stocked study, unlit save for the feeble glow of a low fireplace along the far wall. A deep green wingback chair stood haloed by the firelight, its occupant facing away from the door with a thin, solid oakwood cane by their side.

    "The guests have arrived, sir," Grisha said, and they bowed to invite the group into the study. "May I introduce you to his lordship, Sir Branning Steele."

    "Very good." The shape in the seat shifted, and the bassy rumble of their sage voice shook through to Talwyn's core. They were commanding, but not relaxed. They were motivated, but weathered, weary like the wave of their hand towards the door. "Thank you, Grisha. Please, give us some privacy for now. You have your duties."

    The housekeeper muttered the necessary pleasantries, then nodded to each of the guests in turn on their way out. Talwyn wanted to speak out, to protect the illusory comfort that Grisha's presence provided, yet the warm study air suffocated her complaints. Heat stifled all, leaving her, her friend and companions, and their faceless host in a raw, delicate peace peppered with the pops of crackling firewood. The taste of freshly crushed herbs coloured her tongue.

    Minutes, or possibly only seconds, passed before Kerensa took the first step towards the turned chair. "What is all this?" she asked as a black shadow brewed beneath her words. She paused on the corner of a woollen carpet, its tufty beige waves rising to fall around her foot. "Who are you? Why did you bring us here just to be all weird and aloof? And where's our tea?"

    "It will come. Grisha is tending to it now," Steele answered, and he placed a dense book on the short stack beside his seat. Even in the low light, it was clear that the room held a wealth of books, papers, and writing instruments, particularly on top of the sweeping cherry wood desk stood between the chair and the fire. "I have been informed by my agents that you may be of interest to me."

    "He's talking about us," Tangle stage-whispered with a tug on the flowing material of Talwyn's dress. She smiled, her excitement at odds with the gloom that mounted in the dimly lit space. "Because of the duskclaws and stuff, you know? You were super cool back there, by the way, guys."

    Somehow, Talwyn did not share in the dryad's joy. "We were only trying to help out," she said, treading to come between her friend and the figure in the chair. Though close to the man, the seat's angle blocked all but the last wisps of Steele's curling beard hair from view. "Stop this, whatever it is! If you want something, just ask for it already."

    A strained sigh left Steele's lungs, and he took his cane in hand. "Many here claim to want to do good," he muttered as he tapped the base of his stick against the stirring ebony floorboards. "I do not put much stock in mere words."

    With a pleading groan, Talwyn shut her eyes and flexed her fingers. "Look, I don't know what you heard, but we're not looking to cause trouble," she said, her breathing growing deeper, more frustrated. "We don't even know why we're here, but we're definitely not asking anything of you. We can handle ourselves just fine."

    Steele brought his tapping cane to a halt with one sudden, cracking strike. The weak flame before him fizzled and popped, then burst with vivid life into a thriving, restless blaze. Sparks leapt freely past Talwyn's face, and the dancing flames licked at the corners of the fireplace as if to crawl over the floor towards her feet. The walls, previously veiled in shadow, now flared in vengeful scarlet.

    Amplified by the fire's roar, Steele's voice boomed. "Then show me."

    Those words were all the warning Talwyn received before some hidden mechanism clicked into place. From between two gold-trimmed bookshelves, a long, dark metal pole fell forward, the honed edge of a silver axe welded to its end.

    And it was coming straight for Kerensa.