Morena watched as the man left. She had switched her hood with his and got a small piece of wood to hide under it. The wood would act as a fake leather tube; that way, their appearance would match a bit more.
The only issue would be her height, but by pretending to hunch over, constantly acting paranoid, perhaps they would overlook it.
The sign of the Stone Jackdaw groaned behind her as it swayed. She walked on, steady, her pace neither hurried nor slow.
At the pie stall, the man in the shabby coat shifted. He bit once into his pie, then set it down, his eyes following her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. His right hand hovered too near his belt.
At the cobbler, the thin man lifted his head, fingers worrying at the sleeve of his coat. His eyes weren’t on the shoes but on her back.
She moved slow, slow enough for them to catch up, allowing them to fall in behind her, one at a distance, one nearer.
"Measure their steps and physical capabilities based on their movement. Tell me what you can."
[Recording. Subject one: measured cadence. Weight carried on toes. Subject two: uneven stride, nervous pauses. One shows apprentice-level readings consistent. Projection: neither exceeds mid-apprentice capabilities.]
Morena’s lips pressed thin; this was perfect for her.
So they weren’t veterans or ranked warriors—only apprentices. That meant they thought Corin was weak enough to be handled by such men.
She turned down one street, then another, weaving through the market where vendors shouted and children darted between legs. Every few steps, she tested them, glancing at stalls, slowing at corners, shifting her cloak as if distracted.
Every time she stopped, they would stop. Every time she moved back, they would move back.
When she was certain of their level, she made her choice.
The bustling streets of the market, the cheers of the children—all of it slowly faded away as she took less-used paths.
The next turn took her into an alley. Narrow. Walls pressed tight with grime and rain stains. At the far end, it closed in—a dead end where broken crates rotted in shadow.
Her boots tapped softly as she walked in. She stopped midway and set her hand to the wall as though catching her breath.
Behind her, footsteps entered the mouth of the alley.
The knife-man was the first to step up. Knife-hand close to his belt, his stride confident, almost lazy. The thin clerk behind him, eyes flicking everywhere, making sure they weren’t being watched.
While she had speculated it before, it was now confirmed for her that they were together.
"You picked the wrong street."
Knife-man’s voice carried, flat and sure.
The clerk swallowed, licking his lips, but he said nothing.
Morena kept her back to them a moment longer, then slowly turned. The hood shadowed her face, but her eyes gleamed faintly in the dim.
"You think you’ve cornered me?"
She reached up and lowered her hood, revealing her face to them both.
At first, they were shocked, clearly surprised that the one before them was not the man they were sent after, but a completely different person.
The pie man didn’t recognize her, but from the shift in the clerk’s face, she could tell he knew who she was; yet he didn’t mention it.
Morena’s hand slipped under her cloak, reaching for her dagger. Her posture shifted subtly, entering a stance ready for battle.
"You’re the one that’s been following me. You tell me."
The words fell like a stone in water.
Knife-man’s brows faltered, but only for a breath. Then he laughed once, sharply.
"You’ve got a sharp tongue, but it’s too bad—you got involved in something you shouldn’t have. That won’t help you when I cut your throat."
He didn’t even give her a chance to speak; he lunged, cloak shifting, steel flashing free.
Morena’s body moved before thought. AI murmured timing at the edge of her mind.
[Step left. Angle wrist. Redirect force.]
Her foot slid across the damp stone. The knife cut air where she had stood, her hand snapping down on his wrist. She twisted—sharp and controlled.
The crack of bone rang out just loud enough for the alley to hear. The knife clattered against the wall.
Knife-man gasped, tried to pull free, but she forced him forward, slamming his face against the alley wall. He staggered, dazed, before she shoved him down with a sharp knee to the back.
The clerk yelped and tried to bolt.
But Morena wasn’t going to allow that to happen. She pushed off the man on the ground and threw her dagger at the clerk; the goal wasn’t to kill him, but to hit his legs.
The dagger pierced the man’s leg with accuracy, sending him stumbling to the ground. She wrenched him back hard enough that he stumbled against her, breath tearing from his lungs.
She had subdued both, much easier than she had expected.
Knife-man groaned, spitting blood. He attempted to stand up after she had moved, but she slammed her foot against his spine.
The clerk froze, trembling, his leg bleeding as he grasped it in pain.
"You were sent to follow Corin. Why?"
Morena’s voice was calm, but the dagger twirling in her hand was enough to sell the threat.
Knife-man snarled over him.
Morena pressed her foot harder into his spine. He coughed, gasped.
"Sending one apprentice and one—whatever this is—to deal with him. Do you people overestimate him, or under?"
Her eyes glanced at the clerk when she mentioned ’this thing,’ because it was clear the man held very little experience in this field. She wondered why he was even here to begin with, but it wasn’t her operation.
The clerk’s eyes widened, sweat slick on his brow.
Knife-man snarled, twisting despite the pain.
Morena cut in. She spun her foot, digging her heel into his spine until the man couldn’t help but beg for mercy.
"You’ll stay down until I decide what to do with you."
For a moment, both were silent save for their ragged breaths.
Knife-man jerked violently, free hand darting—not for her, but for the clerk.
Morena reacted, but not fast enough to stop the slice completely—just misdirected it. The blade cut across the clerk’s side, but not deep enough to pose any real danger. The boy screamed, collapsing to the ground, clutching his ribs.
"Loose ends like you should just die quietly."
Knife-man spat, teeth red, his other hand trembling, fingers twitching.
Morena managed to get him pinned again, but it didn’t matter. He slammed his head against the ground, hard enough for a crack to sound, but that wasn’t his only attempt at death. Blood gushed from his mouth. His body spasmed once, twice—then stilled.
Foam touched the edge of his lips.
Morena froze, breathing tight, watching the life leave his eyes.
The clerk writhed on the stones, blood slicking his side. He stared at the corpse with wide, horrified eyes.
"You—You saw—he tried to—"
His words tumbled out, panicked and half-broken.
Morena crouched low, gripping his chin, forcing his eyes to her.
"You’re alive. That makes you useful. But that bleeding won’t stop on its own."
Her tone cut through his panic like cold water.
The boy’s chest heaved. His hand pressed desperately against the wound, but he nodded, small and frantic.
Morena let him go and stood, eyes flicking once more to the dead man. His jaw was stiff already, lips parted in the ugly echo of loyalty twisted into silence.
Her cloak swayed as she pulled it close again.
"AI. Record his face, his voice, his body—everything about him. I need to know who he is, and what he could lead us to."
Morena looked down at the clerk again. His blood seeped between his fingers, pooling on the stones.
"Get up. You’ll walk."
"Or you’ll bleed out here, and no one will know your name. The choice is yours, but I’m not going to baby you."
Her words weren’t cruel, just facts. He had attempted to take another life, and while he may look young, while he may be young, that choice was one he made.
And the price of that choice was opening yourself to death. The boy swallowed hard, then dragged himself up, trembling, leaning heavily against the wall.
Morena steadied him just long enough to make sure he wouldn’t collapse outright. She spared the dead man no more than a single glance and turned to walk.
She left the corpse right there in the alleyway. Maybe his people would find him, or maybe others would first. Whatever it may be, the city was going to get much noisier now that a murder had happened in the open.
And she could use that to her advantage—but first, getting to the location she told Corin about, without being seen.