Sunday morning in the town of Rowwe arrived quietly, the sun rising through a deep blue sky that promised a calm day. The streets were unusually still, the usual hum of commerce and chatter subdued as if the town itself was taking a breath after the chaos of the prior day.
Roe sat alone on a wooden bench in the town square, a loaf of bread in hand as he tore off small pieces to scatter for the pigeons. The birds gathered eagerly, their soft coos filling the air before they fluttered off one by one, disappearing into the endless expanse of blue above.
"I wish I was a bird," Roe thought, his eyes following the last pigeon as it took flight. The freedom to simply soar, unburdened by the demands of work or the weight of yesterday's events, seemed like a dream.
His dark brown cloak hung over his frame, reaching beyond his feet as it draped across the bench. Beneath it, his casual attire felt strange—a small reminder of how rare these moments were. Sundays were never truly his to enjoy; there was always some task to complete, some call to serve. But today was different. After the events at the tavern, he'd told Garett he needed the day off.
Of course, Garett hadn't been thrilled. "Sure, leave me with the mess to clean up," he'd grumbled. Roe had shrugged it off, knowing that Garett's complaints were mostly bark and little bite. Still, there was some truth to the accusation—fixing the tavern hadn't been his priority. The truth was, Roe had needed space. Space to think, to process, and perhaps even to hide from the prying eyes of curious townsfolk.
He leaned back against the bench, closing his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him. But even in this rare moment of peace, the lingering memories of the attack played at the edges of his mind—the flash of steel, the bandits' shouts, the crackling energy of his sigil as it struck.
The square wasn't as empty as it seemed. From the shadows of an alley, someone watched him, their gaze steady and unblinking. The figure remained still, blending into the background with a practiced ease. Another pair of eyes in a town where everyone seemed to be watching.
Roe didn't notice at first. His thoughts were elsewhere, far from the present moment. But the feeling of being observed crept up on him, prickling at the back of his neck. He shifted slightly, his gaze sweeping the square under the guise of watching the birds. Nothing seemed out of place, yet the sensation lingered.
Roe tossed the last crumbs of bread to the ground, watching as a small pigeon cautiously approached. The town square was slowly coming to life now; merchants began setting up their stalls, and children darted between carts, their laughter breaking the quiet morning air. Yet, the feeling of being watched remained, an invisible weight pressing against his senses.
"Now here's a sight I didn't expect," a familiar voice called out, smooth and lilting with just a touch of amusement. Roe turned his head, and there she was—Naesha.
Her auburn hair gleamed in the sunlight, tied loosely to one side, and her green dress swayed gently as she approached. Despite her simple attire, she radiated an effortless elegance that always made her stand out. The daughter of the lord of Rowwe, she carried herself with the kind of confidence only an aristocrat could, though her demeanor was often far friendlier than her status might suggest.
"Naesha," Roe greeted, nodding slightly as she sat beside him. Her presence was as welcome as it was unexpected, though he knew better than to assume her timing was coincidental.
"You've got the whole town talking," she said with a sly smile, crossing her legs as she leaned back on the bench. "Not even a full day, and you're already a local legend. Bandits storming the tavern, and you—calm as can be—tossing around magic like it's nothing. Honestly, Roe, I'm impressed."
Roe shrugged, his eyes fixed on the square. "It's not that big of a deal. Anyone can use basic magic."
Naesha raised an eyebrow. "Anyone, sure. But most wouldn't stand their ground like you did, let alone take down half a gang without breaking a sweat." She tilted her head, studying him. "Don't be so modest. You know it's more than just practice."
He didn't reply immediately, letting her words hang in the air. She wasn't wrong, but he wasn't eager to dwell on it either.
"And then there's the knight," Naesha continued, her tone taking on a teasing edge. "Lance Everwind himself, here in Rowwe. Do you have any idea how rare that is? A high-ranking knight of Isenhert doesn't just wander into small towns like ours for fun."
Roe glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "I didn't think much of it. He was just doing his job."
Naesha chuckled. "Oh, Roe. You think too little of yourself. A knight like him doesn't just show up to clean up bandits. He was watching you—I heard it straight from one of the merchants. They said he stayed longer than necessary, asking questions about you."
Roe's hand tightened slightly around the edge of his cloak. "Questions?"
Naesha nodded, her expression turning more serious. "Yes. And not just about the fight. He wanted to know about your magic. Your background. Where you learned to use sigils like that."
Roe's gaze dropped to the ground, his thoughts churning. Lance Everwind had been calm, almost unnervingly so, when he'd appeared at the tavern. The knight's presence had felt like more than a coincidence, and now Naesha's words only deepened his unease.
"Do you think he's still in town?" Roe asked quietly.
"Maybe," Naesha replied, her tone lighter again. "Or maybe he's watching you from the shadows right now." She leaned closer, her smile playful but her eyes sharp. "You do have a knack for drawing attention, Roe. Don't be surprised if this is just the beginning."
Roe forced a small smile, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The weight of unseen eyes felt heavier now, and he couldn't shake the sense that something—or someone—was waiting for him to make the next move.
The conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional chirping of birds and the distant hum of merchants peddling their wares. Roe adjusted his cloak, trying to shake the uneasy feeling Naesha's words had left behind.
"Well, if nothing else, you've given the town something to gossip about for weeks," Naesha said, stretching her arms dramatically. "Though, I suppose I should stop teasing you."
Before Roe could respond, a shadow fell across them. His eyes flicked upward, and his body tensed instinctively. Standing before them was a man clad in polished armor, the steel catching the sunlight in a way that made him look almost radiant.
"Sir Everwind," Naesha said with a slight bow of her head, her tone shifting to one of polite formality.
The knight inclined his head in return, his piercing gray eyes scanning them both. Lance Everwind was taller than Roe had realized the day before, his broad shoulders and imposing frame giving him a commanding presence. His dark hair was cropped neatly, and a faint scar ran from his temple to his jawline—a subtle reminder of battles fought and won.
"Miss Naesha," Lance said, his voice deep and steady, though there was no mistaking the authority behind it. "A pleasure to see you again." His gaze shifted to Roe. "And you, Mr. Roe."
Roe stood slowly, his casual demeanor masking the unease bubbling beneath the surface. "Sir Lance," he replied evenly.
Lance's expression didn't waver, but his eyes seemed to bore into Roe, as though searching for something hidden beneath his calm exterior. "I trust you're enjoying your day off."
"As much as I can," Roe replied. "Though I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
Lance's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I imagine not. But then again, I didn't expect to encounter a mage of your caliber in a town like Rowwe."
Naesha's gaze flicked between the two men, her curiosity barely concealed. "Sir Lance," she interjected, her tone light but measured, "surely you're not here just to admire Roe's… talents?"
Lance glanced at her, the ghost of amusement crossing his face. "No, Miss Naesha. I'm here because the events of yesterday demand further attention."
Roe frowned. "The bandits are gone. What more needs addressing?"
The knight took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating. "The bandits were merely a symptom. Their presence in Rowwe suggests vulnerabilities, ones that could be exploited again. And then there's you."
"Me?" Roe's tone remained neutral, though his mind raced.
Lance folded his arms, his armor clinking softly. "A servant in a tavern, capable of advanced sigil magic and a level of composure most trained mages struggle to achieve. You may not realize it, but your actions yesterday saved lives. Such skill is rare—far too rare to ignore."
Roe resisted the urge to take a step back, his expression unreadable. "I just did what anyone else would've done."
"No," Lance said firmly. "You did what few others could have done."
Naesha, sensing the tension, stood and placed a hand on Roe's arm. "Sir Lance, surely you're not suggesting anything untoward?"
Lance's gaze softened slightly as he addressed her. "Not at all. But Roe's abilities cannot be overlooked. In times like these, the kingdom cannot afford to let talent like his go unnoticed."
Roe's jaw tightened. "If you're here to recruit me, I'm not interested."
The knight studied him for a moment before nodding. "I suspected as much. Still, my duty compels me to ensure that those with extraordinary skills are acknowledged." He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small, intricately engraved medallion, holding it out to Roe.
"What's this?" Roe asked, hesitating before taking it.
"A token," Lance replied. "If you ever find yourself in need—or if you change your mind—seek me out in Isenhert. There's a place for you there."
The weight of the medallion felt heavier than it should have. Roe stared at it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. "I'll keep it in mind."
Lance nodded, his gaze lingering on Roe for a moment longer. Then, with a slight bow to Naesha, he turned and strode away, his armor gleaming in the sunlight as he disappeared into the bustling square.
As the knight's presence faded, Naesha exhaled dramatically. "Well, that was… intense."
Roe didn't respond immediately. His fingers brushed against the medallion in his pocket, his thoughts swirling. The eyes watching him yesterday had been Lance's, and now the knight had left him with more questions than answers.
"Do you think he'll come back?" Naesha asked, tilting her head.
Roe's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "But I don't think this is the last we'll see of him."
The bustling square began to settle as Lance Everwind disappeared into the crowd, his polished armor still catching glimmers of sunlight as he moved further from view. Roe let out a slow breath, his fingers still brushing against the medallion in his pocket. It felt heavier than it had any right to, as though it carried the weight of expectations he wasn't ready to shoulder.
Naesha broke the silence, tilting her head toward him. "You sure you're alright? You're quieter than usual, even for you."
"I'm fine," Roe replied, his voice steady but distant. His gaze lingered on the path Lance had taken, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
Naesha leaned back on the bench, her auburn hair catching the golden light of the sun. "Well, it's not every day the likes of Lance Everwind show up in Rowwe. And it's definitely not every day he starts handing out tokens to tavern servants. You're a hard one to figure out, Roe."
Before Roe could respond, a subtle shift in the atmosphere drew his attention. It was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind, but it was enough to set his nerves on edge. He glanced around the square, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd.
"Something wrong?" Naesha asked, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.
Roe shook his head slightly. "Probably nothing," he muttered, though the uneasy feeling gnawed at him. He had felt this before—yesterday, during the attack. The sensation of being watched.
A shadow moved in the corner of his vision, subtle and fleeting, but enough to catch his attention. His eyes darted toward it, landing on a figure standing just beyond the edge of the square. They were cloaked in black, their face obscured by the hood, but their posture was unmistakable: they were watching him.
Roe tensed, his mind racing. The figure stood perfectly still, blending seamlessly into the background of bustling townsfolk, yet they were out of place. Too deliberate. Too focused.
"Roe?" Naesha's voice cut through his thoughts. She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the cloaked figure. "Friend of yours?"
"Doubt it," Roe replied, his tone low.
The figure tilted their head slightly, as if acknowledging they'd been noticed. Then, without a sound, they turned and slipped into an alleyway, disappearing from view.
Naesha rose from the bench, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. "You think they were after you?"
Roe didn't answer immediately. He stood, adjusting his cloak as his mind pieced together the puzzle. The timing was too convenient—the attack, Lance's sudden appearance, and now this. Whoever the cloaked figure was, they had been waiting for something. Or someone.
"Stay here," he said, his voice calm but firm.
"Stay here?" Naesha echoed, her tone incredulous. "Roe, you're not seriously thinking of going after them, are you?"
"I'll be fine," Roe replied, his gaze already fixed on the alley.
Naesha sighed, crossing her arms. "You're impossible, you know that? Fine, go play hero. But don't come crying to me if you get yourself killed."
Roe managed a small smile before turning away. He moved swiftly but carefully, his steps silent as he approached the alley where the figure had disappeared. The shadows deepened as he stepped out of the sunlit square, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum.
The alley was empty, but the faint scuff marks on the cobblestones told him the figure had gone further. Roe followed the trail, his senses heightened. Whoever this was, they were skilled, but they hadn't accounted for his awareness.
As he rounded a corner, he caught sight of the figure again, standing at the end of the alley. This time, they didn't move.
"Who are you?" Roe called out, his voice steady.
The figure didn't respond immediately. Instead, they raised a hand, and a faint shimmer of magic flickered in the air around them.
Roe's eyes narrowed. "If you're here to fight, you'll regret it."
The figure finally spoke, their voice distorted as if layered with echoes. "You're not what you seem, Roe."
The words sent a chill down his spine, but he didn't let it show. "And what do you think I am?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, they turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the faintest trace of magic. Roe clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
When he returned to the square, Naesha was waiting, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed.
"Well?" she asked.
"They're gone," Roe said simply, sitting back down on the bench.
Naesha studied him for a moment before sighing. "You really know how to make life interesting, don't you?"
Roe didn't respond. His thoughts were on the figure's words, and the lingering sense that whatever had begun yesterday was far from over.
Above them, the sky was clear, but Roe couldn't shake the feeling of a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.