Victor and I sat across from each other in the inn's dining hall, the morning light streaming through tall windows and illuminating our modest breakfast, which were bread, cheese, some kind of meat pie that was better than it had any right to be, and weak ale.

The silence between us was comfortable only because we'd both gotten used to it. Victor ate with mechanical efficiency, his mind clearly elsewhere, probably already planning whatever Knight business he had for the day.

I focused on my food.

After finishing the last of his ale, Victor stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape of wood against wood.

"I have work," he announced, not quite meeting my eyes. "Knight duties." He pulled out a small pouch from his coat and tossed it onto the table between us. Coins clinked softly. "So I won't be babysitting you today."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Leave when you want," he continued, already turning toward the door. "Just stay out of trouble. Father will be disappointed if you get arrested or start another incident."

Then he was gone, his footsteps fading as he strode out into the morning streets.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the coin pouch he'd left behind.

Then I looked at my plate. Then at his empty one.

"Bastard didn't even pay for his own food," I muttered.

Then finishing the last bite of my meat pie, flagged down the serving girl, and settled both our bills with coins from the pouch Victor had thrown at me.

Technically his money anyway. So I guess he did pay. In the indirect, dickish way possible.

I stood, pulled my hood up to shadow my face, and headed outside.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of baking bread and horse manure, the universal smell of cities waking up.

Greyford was already busy, merchants opening their stalls, workers heading to their trades, street vendors calling out their wares with practiced enthusiasm.

I kept my hood up and my head down, navigating through the growing crowds toward the eastern market.

Which sprawled across a large plaza near the town's edge, bordered by shops and warehouses. It was one of the busier markets, less prestigious than the central square but more practical, catering to everyday needs rather than luxury goods.

Perfect place to get lost in a crowd.

I found a spot near a fountain at the market's edge, leaning against the stone basin with my arms crossed, and waited.

Is she late, or am I early?

The market continued its morning routine around me. A baker's boy ran past carrying a tray of fresh rolls. Two women haggled loudly over the price of fabric. A street performer was setting up near the fountain, tuning some kind of stringed instrument that looked like it had seen better days.

I scanned the crowd, looking for red hair and a hostile attitude.

Nothing.

Maybe she changed her mind. Decided the risk wasn't worth it.

I waited, watching the sun climb higher, the market growing more crowded with each passing minute.

Give it another ten minutes. Then I'll—

Then someone bumped into me from behind, hard enough to make me stumble forward slightly.

"Watch where you're standing, idiot."

I turned.

Scarlet stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in irritation. She'd changed clothes, now wearing a simple brown dress that looked like standard servant's attire, her red hair tied back in a practical braid. The slave mark was completely invisible, just as I'd left it.

But her expression was pure hostility.

"You're late," I said.

"I'm late?" She scoffed. "I've been watching you stand here like a lost puppy for twenty minutes. I was making sure you weren't followed."

Oh.

"And?" I asked.

"You weren't. Surprisingly." She uncrossed her arms and gestured for me to follow.

I followed Scarlet as she turned and started walking deeper into the market, weaving between stalls with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going.

After about a minute of silent walking, she suddenly stopped and spun around, her expression hostile.

"What do you want?" she hissed, keeping her voice low but sharp.

"I want you to look for someone," I said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"A woman named Agnes. She is in her late twenties, have chestnut brown hair and green eyes. She used to be a servant at my family's estate. Left a year ago. Probably working in one of the households here in Greyford."

Scarlet stared at me.

Then kept staring.

"That's it?" Her voice rose slightly before she caught herself and lowered it again. "That's all you have?"

"Yeah. That's all I know about her."

"You idiot!" She took a step closer, her fists clenching. "How am I supposed to just find her with that? Do you have any idea how many brown-haired women named Agnes probably work as servants in this town?"

I shrugged. "It's on you. That's why you're helping me, remember?"

"I..." She made a strangled sound of frustration. "You can't just give me a name and hair color and expect me to locate someone! I'm not a... a tracking hound!"

"You seemed pretty confident last night about being able to help."

"That was before I knew you had nothing!" She threw her hands up. "No specific place? No idea where she might be working for? Nothing about what she looks like besides 'brown hair'?"

"Green eyes too," I offered helpfully.

She looked like she wanted to claw my face again.

"Listen," I said, keeping my tone even. "Just start asking around. Find any Agnes you can, servants, workers, anyone. Get their descriptions, where they work, anything useful. Then tell me what you find."

"And what will you be doing while I'm running around like an idiot?"

"My own work," I said vaguely. "I've got other things to handle while I'm here."

Scarlet's jaw worked, grinding her teeth audibly.

"This is stupid," she muttered. "You're stupid. This whole thing is stupid."

"Probably," I agreed. "But we have a deal. One month. You help me find her, I keep your mark suppressed. Simple."

"Nothing about this is simple!" She jabbed a finger at my chest. "And don't think I've forgotten, if you try to do anything perverted, I'll gut you! I don't care about your weird magic tricks!"

"I know."

She glared at me for another long moment, then spun on her heel with an angry huff.

"Fine! I'll look for your stupid Agnes! But don't blame me if this takes forever because you gave me nothing to work with!"

She started to stalk off, then paused and looked back over her shoulder.

"Where do I find you when I have information? I'm not wandering around looking for you."

"The Silver Griffin Inn. Eastern district. Ask for Jin."

"Jin," she repeated, her nose wrinkling slightly. "Stupid name."

"It's the one I was born with."

"Still stupid." She turned away again. "I'll find you when I have something. Don't hold your breath, this could take days. Or weeks. Or never, because your information is useless."

Then she disappeared into the crowd, her red hair the last thing visible before she was swallowed by the mass of market-goers.

I stood there for a moment, watching where she'd gone.

Well. That went about as well as expected.

I sighed and started making my way back through the market, pulling my hood lower.

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