he noise of the guild hall was loud and boisterous that evening, filled with the clamor of adventurers celebrating victories or drowning their failures in drink. Lyra sat quietly at a corner table with Emmy, her eyes scanning the room like a predator stalking prey. A certain mercenary had caught her attention earlier in the day—an older man with a grizzled face, perpetually smelling of sweat and ale. Rumors of his loose tongue had reached her ears, and Lyra was determined to test the truth of them.
She leaned slightly toward Emmy and whispered, "Stay here. Keep an eye on the door. If anyone bothers you, shout for me."
Emmy nodded, her small face serious, clutching the hem of Lyra's sleeve before letting her go. Lyra gave her sister's hand a reassuring squeeze before rising and making her way across the room. She moved carefully, her footsteps deliberate, her expression neutral. The mercenary was sitting at the bar, already halfway through his second mug of ale, regaling anyone who would listen with exaggerated tales of his exploits.
"…and that's when I told the beast, 'You'll have to do better than that!' And bam! Took its head clean off with one swing!" he boasted, slamming his fist on the counter for emphasis.
The adventurers around him either chuckled politely or ignored him entirely, their own conversations drowning out his drunken braying. Lyra slid onto a stool next to him, her face a mask of interest.
"Wow," she said, her voice light and admiring. "That's incredible. You must be a top-tier adventurer to take down a monster like that."
The man turned to her, surprised but clearly pleased by the attention. He puffed out his chest and grinned, his ego visibly swelling. "Well, you know, I've had my fair share of adventures. Ain't much I haven't faced out there."
Lyra tilted her head, feigning awe. "I'd love to hear more. Can I buy you a drink?"
His eyes lit up, and he slammed his empty mug on the counter. "Now there's a lass with good manners! Bartender, another round!"
As the bartender refilled his mug, Lyra subtly studied the man's demeanor. He was loud and boastful, but his words were calculated enough to suggest he wasn't entirely as foolish as he seemed. This would require a delicate touch.
"So, tell me," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "What's the most dangerous thing you've ever faced?"
The mercenary took a long swig of his drink before answering. "Ah, lass, that's a story and a half. But let me tell you—there's danger out there that'd make your blood run cold. Not just monsters, mind you. People. Organizations. Shadows you don't wanna cross."
Lyra leaned in slightly, her eyes wide. "Organizations? Like what?"
He hesitated, glancing around the room as if to ensure no one was eavesdropping. The flicker of fear in his eyes was enough to pique Lyra's interest.
"Let's just say there are folks out there who don't play by the guild's rules. They've got their own way of doing things. Dangerous way."
Her heart pounded in her chest, but her expression remained innocent and curious. "That sounds so mysterious. Have you ever dealt with them?"
The man chuckled darkly, taking another long gulp. "More than I'd like to admit. Once, I was hired to guard a shipment. Didn't ask too many questions—big mistake. Turns out, it wasn't a shipment at all. It was a... message. Sent to someone who crossed the wrong people."
"What happened?" Lyra asked, her voice a mix of fascination and concern.
His gaze turned distant, his fingers tightening around his mug. "Let's just say the message wasn't delivered with words. When I figured out what was going on, I made myself scarce. Ain't worth your life to get involved with people like that."
Lyra's mind raced. Was this connected to the organization that had killed her parents? It sounded plausible, but the mercenary's vagueness left her uncertain. She needed more.
"Do you think they're still around?" she asked, her tone careful.
The man smirked, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of fear. "Oh, they're around, alright. Always watching, always pulling strings. They don't like loose ends, either, so you'd do well to keep your nose out of their business."
Lyra nodded, pretending to be suitably intimidated. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be careful."
The man grunted, finishing his drink. "Smart lass. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do than talk about ghosts."
As he stumbled off toward the door, Lyra's eyes followed him, her mind churning with questions. The information he'd given her was vague, but it confirmed what she already suspected: the organization was still active in this city. And if they were watching, she would have to be even more careful.
Lyra returned to her table, her steps measured and her face composed. Emmy looked up at her with a curious expression.
"Did you learn anything?" Emmy asked softly.
"Maybe," Lyra replied, sitting down beside her. She placed a hand on her sister's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Let's go home. It's been a long day."
Later that evening, back in the room they had rented at the inn, Lyra sat by the window, staring out into the darkened streets below. Emmy had already drifted off to sleep, curled up under a thin blanket with a small smile on her face. Lyra's hand brushed the pendant around her neck, a soothing weight against her chest.
"Always watching," she murmured to herself, echoing the mercenary's words.
She thought of the whispers that lingered in her armor, a cacophony of voices that had grown louder with every fight. If the organization was as vast and dangerous as the mercenary claimed, she would need to tread carefully. But no matter how cautious she was, the truth was unavoidable: if she wanted answers, she would have to confront the shadows eventually.
For now, though, her priority was keeping Emmy safe. Everything else could wait.