Silverleaf

As the evening grew darker, Taiga walked through the open door of a great library. Applegate was apparently known for its college and collection of literature. At least, according to Mallegin. He walked quietly, nodding a short bow to the librarian carrying a stack of books, then retreated towards the center of the main hall.

Sitting at one of the long tables was a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, with dark blond hair, glasses balanced upon her pronounced nose, dressed in red and green garbs. He confirmed her as their target; the outsider Remy.

He turned, nodding back towards the door open ajar, and beyond it a shadow shifted out of sight. Taiga turned towards the shelves, glancing at their signage. He took a peak at the outsider. Engrossed by whatever she scribbled in a notebook, it was unlikely she noticed him. According to a local guard, she’d sat there most of the day. With the large number of open books scattered around her, Taiga assumed accuracy from the statement.

Walking down an aisle of bookshelves, his eyes lingered on every patron, seeing if any, like him, were observing her or in her companionship. But after a good while of grazing the books and everyone minding their own, he grew more sure the outsider was, indeed, alone. But more assurance couldn’t hurt.

He picked a few books off the shelf, and made his way quietly to the table. He decided on his placement across from her and down a couple seats. A few other people sat at different parts of the table, and she didn’t even note his presence.

He cracked open one of the books, his eyes finding the title for the first time. ‘The Love Triangle of the Mistress and the Wife’. He paused, before glancing at the other titles; ‘Her Heroic Wolf’, and finally ‘Only His Brother in Bed’.

Taiga glanced back to the shelf he’d picked these from, and read the signage for romance. Well, it didn’t matter. He shifted and caught the outsider’s eyes on him. He paused, and she broke eye contact, staring at his books of choice, before returning to her writing.

If Taiga had any pride, it might have been crushed right then. But instead, he could use this. “What, you don’t ever want to read a… good romance?”

The outsider looked up at him, “no, not really.” He considered it a fair statement. Around them, no person looked towards him, or even tensed at his approach towards her. She had no allies here.

“And you think your books are more interesting?” He took a gander at the books, the titles ranging from discussions on ancient magics to utilizations on magical properties. Few humans could use magic, and those that could had blood carried down unsoiled generation after generation. And while magic could be used from the earth and beings around them, it wasn’t exactly an easy field of study.

He wondered if this was some sort of information gathering for Monx, although he didn’t know enough of the field to be sure. His eyes fell to the book closest to her, and to the notebooks she transcribed to. He smiled a bit, recognizing the characters scribbled on the page. With no allies here, he could proceed to her capture.

“A word of caution, if you plan to infiltrate an enemy kingdom again.” She froze. “Unless you are a member of the Royal Scholarly Academy, no citizen of Lanria can read the Old Anu language, much less write it.”

Her eyes jerked to his, wide and still. Her arms and hands tensed, and she slowly set her pen down. After a few moments, she calmed herself, looking down at her book and scribbles. She cleared her throat.

“Why does this library have books in Old Anu if no one can read it?” She tried to maintain her tone, but the trembles in her voice and the rising tension in her posture gave herself away.

“For scribes and students to practice. But they wear identifying sashes over their robes.” He remained calm, relaxed his tone, and picked up one of his books. He weighed it in his hands between them, glancing around them. No one noticed their conversation, but Mallegin and Hela both stood near the door. He caught her following his gaze to his companions.

“I’m not a spy.” She worked to keep her voice even.

“But you are from Monx.” Hesitantly, she nodded. “And that in and of itself is a crime in times of war. Whether you are a spy or not is outside of our job requirements.”

“What happens now?” He watched her a moment, looking her over for anything protruding from her clothes. He didn’t see any hints of hidden weapons, and she carried none openly on her person.

“We’ll quietly get up, and join my friends over there without arousing these people’s attention. Sound good?”

“I’m not a fighter,” she stammered.

“I didn’t say you were,” Taiga replied. He picked up his books, giving her time to pack her notebook and pen, and stand.

She followed him silently. When they reached the counter, Taiga set his books down and bowed his head to the librarian. She reciprocated, and accepted the books. The outsider eyed Mallegin as they neared.

“Remy Heathelworth?” Mallegin smiled at them. Hela approached, a hand hanging loose beside her sword. The outsider nodded. “You’re wanted under suspicion of infiltration and allegations of spying and spreading propaganda. You will be handed over to the Gale Order for questioning.”

“I’m not a spy,” Remy insisted, loud enough for two people to glance over at them. Mallegin ushered her out, and Hela pushed her out the door and down the steps.

“That’s for the Gale Order to decide. Not us.” Hela pulled Remy’s hands in front of her, and bound them in thick rope. Remy flinched, but said nothing more.

Mallegin turned towards Taiga, smiling and chuckling, “good job, newbie! Captured the outsider without raising any suspicions or causing trouble. I’d say you’re a natural at this.” Taiga accepted the praise, although his years of experience as a knight kept him from feeling as proud as Mallegin seemed to expect.

“But I haven’t done anything!” Remy snapped, and pulled back on the ropes.

“You’ve been reported multiple times for spreading falsehoods and fear.” Hela held her grip tight.

“Where’s your evidence?”

“Is that how you do things in Monx? Why do we need to provide evidence of your wrongdoing? You will need to provide evidence otherwise.”

Remy stammered a bit, glancing at Taiga before looking down and saying nothing. Seeing how easily she resigned herself, Taiga knew Mouse would leap at the news that their time with this mercenary group was quickly coming to an end. He searched around them, and only saw the four mercenaries .

“Where’s Mouse?” He asked no one in particular.

Hela glanced up, took one sweep around, and shrugged, “your friend wandered a bit. I thought he stayed close, but I suppose not.”

Taiga stepped away from the group as they dealt with the outsider. The last bit of sunlight still lingered, but not enough to see easily into the growing shadows. “Mouse?”

No answer. He glanced back at the group, seeing them all distracted with the arrest. Quickly, Taiga dipped into the shadows of a tree, and placed a hand upon its bark. The tree rustled at his touch, its branches bending to his presence.

“Have you seen my companion?” Taiga whispered ever so gently, part to be left unseen by the mercenaries, and part to placate the surprised oak.

Taiga pulsed a gentle warmth from his fingertips, echoing into the oak, and vibrated between the cracks of the bark. His fingers sunk it, bark growing from his hand and joining with the tree. When the oak allowed the magic to flow through its roots, the earth, insects, plants, and nearby trees all took up Taiga’s request. They spread out, and pulsed back once Mouse was found.

“Thank you,” Taiga replied, pulling his magic back, and the bark that melded his fingertips to the tree retreated back within him.

He flexed his fingers, making sure no bark remained upon them. He hadn’t used his magic in a while, not since they’d left Lanria’s knighthood. They posed as humans now, and while his kind were not prosecuted, living as a human in Lanria was far simpler.

The grass brushed against his boots as he moved further from the library, and into the shadows. The blades tickled him forward, guiding him further into the woods. No birds chirped, but the crickets sang to him in their stead, and he followed their music until they hushed.

From beyond the trees, water lapped against rocks, and light reflecting off the surface of a small lake glittered across the trees and scattered the shadows. A silhouette stood near the lake’s edge, partially covered in shadow, light flickered off curled, scraggly brown hair.

“Mouse,” Taiga called as he made out his face’s outline in the faint moonlight.

“You found me?” He didn’t look towards Taiga, distracted by something out over the lake.

“The trees did.”

“Ah.”

Taiga made his way closer, pushing past shrubs and over overgrown roots. Mouse snapped attention to the left, but Taiga heard nothing. He followed his sight, but other than the glimmers across the water, nothing moved.

“What is it?” He asked when Mouse turned another direction.

“I heard Mafgnesn speak.” Mouse’s voice cracked and shifted as he said the name. Taiga assumed he referred to the Guardian Spirit near Applegate. “But I hear nothing now.”

“Here? There hasn’t been a sighting anywhere near here in eight years, I checked when we arrived this morning.”

He shook his head, “not here, but their voice carried.” Taiga paused, watching Mouse shift another direction.

“Could they be out of range then? What did they say?”

“I could only hear one word from them before they cut out,” Mouse turned back to Taiga, and for the first time Taiga could see the worry etched into his furrowed brow and stern eyes, “why.”