Arthur and Clark got up from their seats and turned around. They heard Delia tell them to get their upfront pay from her assistant in the waiting room. Before leaving the room both of them turned their heads and nodded with a gracious smile.

Delia's assistant stared at the cricket and the human when she saw them coming, she rolled her eyes a bit. Arthur looked at the woman and didn't even bother to think about what made her eyes roll. "Lady, Delia said she would pay us upfront 5 gold each", he smiled and looked at Clark. Clark finished the sentence: "She told us you would give it us, please hand it over because my friend here is literally starving."

The assistant looked bothered and let out a low sigh. "Why won't she just leave me alone? I have dozens of things to do", she told them. She kept babbling on while opening a drawer of her desk to take out a money-box.

Clark and Arthur investigated the waiting room and gave a weird look at the lady. Surely it was crowded at the game tables, but the waiting room had been empty ever since they had walked in and the assistant did not seem to be working at all, but they noticed a pack of sigarettes and a lighter laying on the desk.

"Here's your money". Ten golden coins clattered on the desk in front of them, some almost rolled off of it. Arthur was quick enough to grab them and quickly take the rest of the coins as well. He shared half of it with Clark. "Thanks, Lady, so kind of you", Clark commented, "Now go and fill up your lungs with tar and nicotine!" Arthur made a gracious bow and made up a cynical laugh. Then they walked out of the building and said goodbye to the friendly bodyguard.

Upon exiting the Casino, Arthur and Clark awkwardly slowed to a stop, not entirely sure where to go next. Twilight descended while they were inside, and the city's bustle was abating, townspeople making their way home. Arthur found his thoughts returning to the meat stall they saw at the plaza, but it seemed a bit impolite to presume Clark would also want to go there.

"You do realize I can read your mind, right?" Clark quipped. "That's silly. We both know you require sustenance. I, too, would like to get a snack, for that matter... Though I doubt I'll find anyone selling grass here."

"You could try a vegetable stall?" Arthur suggested. "I know it's not the same, but it's a similar type of food, at least."

"Great idea!" Clark said, excited. "Let's go!"

It wasn't long before they returned to the plaza. In the evening light, it looked different, but still beautiful. Now, it was illuminated by neat rows of streetlamps. The merchants were starting to wrap up for the day, packing their leftover produce. Arthur and Clark hurried toward the foods aisle.

A couple of minutes later, Arthur was happily chewing on a meat-filled bread roll, two more stowed away in his pocket to munch on on the go or to save for later. This late in the day, the bread was starting to get a bit stale, but the juicy minced meat filling more than made up for it. As Arthur wandered off to get a glass of mead from a different stall, Clark went on looking for something for himself.

Luckily, there was a vegetable stall nearby. It was nearly empty of merchandise—this one must be popular.

The short, plump woman behind the stall was admirably open-minded. Clark caught a glimpse of surprise from her when she noticed him, but then years of experience kicked in.

"Welcome, dear! What will you be having? I'm afraid I'm almost sold out, but we'll see what we can find for you."

Clark pretended not to be surprised and replied, as politely as he knew how: "Greetings. I am looking for something green, and preferably leafy."

The woman blinked but found her footing and considered her options. "Well, normally I would offer you some lettuce, but..."—she gestured toward the box, which only contained several pathetic yellowing specimens. "Hmmm," she mused, then disappeared behind the counter. "A-ha!"

The woman resurfaced, holding up an impressive-looking head of cabbage. It must have weighed three pounds at least. "Will this work for you?"

"May I... have a sample?" Clark inquired. After munching on a leaf she handed him, he commented thoughtfully: "Hmm, what an interesting aftertaste. Yes, I'm sure it will work, ma'am. And it's so... conveniently arranged. It should be easy to transport."

Arthur approached right after Clark had secured his transaction. "Aha, found you!" He seemed much more mellow now that he had had his supper.

Clark smiled in return. "Right on time. Now, to find someplace affordable to spend the night."

The woman's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, are you looking for an inn, dears? I know just the place. My friend runs it, and she's very particular, you know. Cleans the rooms every day."

"What would a night's stay cost, then?" Arthur asked. Judging by the food prices, they were handed quite a considerable sum today, but he still didn't have a good idea as to what the typical prices here were. Better to be safe than sorry.

"She charges one gold piece a night, I think. And for a shilling more, she'll throw in some breakfast. It's a great deal if I say so myself. And would you know," she added conspiratorially, "her husband brews the best strawberry wine!"

"This sounds... great," Arthur said cautiously, a bit taken aback by the ferocity of the woman's sales pitch. "Where is it, again?"

"Oh, take the western exit from the plaza, over there, and take the second turn right. It's right there, you can't miss it. Ask for Marissa, and tell her Orna sent you."

"Thank you, Lady Orna," Clark said with a gallant bow of his head.

To his surprise, the woman laughed uproariously. "Why, I never..." she said, wiping a tear off her cheek. "Take care, dears, and do try a glass of that strawberry wine!"

"Me, a lady!" they heard her muttering as they headed east, before she started laughing again. Her cheeks, however, had been decidedly pink when they had waved her goodbye.

Just a short while later, they were turning the corner onto the street Orna had indicated. Arthur scanned their surroundings and blinked.

They couldn't have missed it, alright. Right down the street...

On the outside, The Homely Hearth looked like any other inn. Aged, evidently popular and radiating the warm glow of a fire from within. Inside however was a different story. The place was inexplicably clean. Orna had mentioned her friend's cleanliness though it appeared this extended to the entirety of the premises. What seemed more surprising to Arthur and Clark however was just how civilized it was inside. Nearly every table occupied, tankards of ale and strawberry wine regularly filled and emptied and yet the atmosphere inside was relaxed. No yelling, no fighting, just murmurs of conversation and Marissa's cackling laughter as she joked with various patrons. Arthur could sense the apprehension melt from Clark when they both realised that barely anyone had even cared to glance in their direction when they walked in, and those that did immediately returned their attention back to their respective conversations. Unfazed.

As they approached the bar, it soon became clear just why there were no signs of aggression to be seen at the Hearth. A hulking man bounded towards the pair to greet them. A man nearly twice Arthur's size and hands big enough to comfortably grab him by the head. Arthur realised he was staring just a moment too late.

"Don't s'pose you're wanting to order some poison son or are you not quite right in that head of yours?" The man's voice boomed.

"If only you knew..." Arthur thought but bit his tongue. He could hear Clark let out the faintest chuckle.

"Actually we were told to ask for Marissa, I assume that's..?" He gestured at the cheerful woman at the other end of the bar.

"My wife, aye. First tankard of strawberry ale's free 'cause I can tell you boys have never been here before." The man motioned at his wife and stepped away to prepare two tankards while Marissa waddled over. Arthur and Clark both noticed just how similar she was to Orna both in stature and size.

Clark scrambled to prop himself up on the bar stool in order to see the woman behind the bar. "Lady Marissa, your friend Orna told us we could rent a room for the night here?" Clark barely finished his sentence before the howl of the woman's laughter filled the air.

"And you listened to that old hag?" The amnesiac and the cricket exchanged glances, not fully sure how to respond.

"Oh come on I'm just messing, you found the right place. Though you'll probably be needing a doctor more than a bed if any of you tried any of Orna's cursed vegetables..." The concern that rapidly formed on Clark's face faded just as quickly as it came once the room erupted in laughter once more.

"Morris will you hurry up with that wine?" The woman snarked. "That man knows how to work a forge but you put him behind a bar and he's like a lost child I swear." As the woman conversed with Clark, Arthur found himself admiring the place. It really did feel homely. Safe. Familiar almost. His memory was still an endless haze but he could feel his mind tugging at threads. It had been a long day and Arthur hoped that finally getting some actual sleep would alleviate his issue.

"...room with two beds, put up a coin and it's yours 'til morning." Arthur felt present again. He reached into his pocket and placed a shiny gold coin on the bar despite Clark's clear insistence on paying. "Next time." He nudged the cricket.

The duo thanked Marissa and after some scouting for an empty table they settled near the fire, tankards of warm strawberry wine in hand. The remainder of the night was uninterrupted, something both Clark and Arthur felt was almost impossible at this point. The day had dragged on and this moment of respite made Arthur finally realise just how much had happened in one day. Between waking up with nothing but clothes and a key to his name on a beach and overpowering an amphibian foe far stronger than him, he wasn't sure whether to dread or anticipate the following day. A sentiment Clark shared.

The cricket knew he had to agree to the bodyguard work for his friend. Despite having no combat experience and minimal prior dealings with conspicuous casino proprietors, Clark felt compelled to help someone who a little over half a day ago had been a complete stranger to him.

Falling asleep at The Homely Hearth was easy and with strawberry wine in their bellies and a week's worth of experiences condensed into a single day behind them, Clark and Arthur found it easier than most.

At this time, Arthur, Clark and Delia were approaching a derelict-looking wooden building a ways away from the inn or the casino. Based on the condition of this and other buildings nearby, this was clearly a rougher, poorer part of Irris. The city’s wealth or lack thereof was not on Arthur’s mind though; he was thinking back to earlier that morning, as the contrast between the friendly environment at The Homely Hearth and this bad section of Irris could not have been more apparent.

He had gotten out of bed to see Clark reading a book; apparently the cricket had been up for a while now and was waiting for him. The rest had not restored his memory at all, but Arthur had been grateful for it all the same, as he felt refreshed from the previous day’s events.

“Oh, good! You’re up. We probably have to leave for the casino soon, but you have to have breakfast here first. They make this thing called a ‘pancake’ that I’ve never seen before and it’s very good!”

Arthur was mildly amused at Clark describing of pancakes as this new and original food, but he did as he suggested. As promised, they were delicious. And like the cricket had said, they did eventually leave for their work. Both felt a little reluctant to do so, but they knew they had to.

Arthur briefly shook his head to focus himself on the present, remembering Delia’s instructions to them both before she had guided them to where they were now.

“Good, you’re here. I’ll only say this once, so pay attention. Stay by me and be alert at all times. Anything you learn at the meeting stays there. I’ll do all the talking. Do not speak unless spoken to, and then only say as much as you have to. That is all.” And that was indeed all for a while; the woman had said nothing else to them throughout the walk, even now when they were right outside of the side entrance of the building.

Delia knocked on the door in a distinct way, starting with one knock, then two, then three in rapid succession. An average-looking man wearing a chef’s apron answered the door. “Good morning. See anything great today?” he asked.

“Prosperity for all I meet,” the casino owner responded.

“Please come inside,” the man said before he led the three of them down an old wooden staircase to a cool basement, dimly lit by candles. Inside was a wooden table and three matching chairs; two were occupied by different individuals and next to each of them were two others standing next to them, presumably their bodyguards. One of the sitting men had his visor up; he was an older man wearing a uniform similar to what to the city guards the pair encountered yesterday wore, but it was much more decorated with medals than theirs had been. His two bodyguards were definitely city guardsmen; they were both wearing their standard helmets. Neither of them would have been recognizable based on their uniforms, but upon reading their minds, Clark recognized the voice of one of them as the red-haired man who had spoken to Arthur yesterday.

The other man seated at the table was much more dour; his expression bordered on anger, with the “crown jewel” of his expression being a large scar in the shape of an X on his face. He was clearly an old man, with gray hair and wrinkled skin, though his body wasn’t frail like many people his age. His bodyguards were menacing as well. One was a tall, thin man wearing thick metal shoes. Despite the slight absurdity of him having to crouch over in order to fit in the basement, his presence was quite intimidating. He also had noticeable black bags under his eyes and short, thick hair with the same color. The other was a short, pale-skinned, fat man wearing what looked like a thin silver suit covered with spikes. Unlike his associate, this man was relatively relaxed for the circumstances. Though Arthur had no way of knowing this, Clark learned with his mind reading abilities that the tall man’s name was Gordon and the short man’s name was Roland.

“Hello Chief, hello Edgar” Delia said, addressing the man in uniform and the scarred man in turn.

“Good morning Delia,” the Chief responded.

“Enough pleasantries, let’s get down to business. Any word on any of the five keys?” Edgar asked.

Arthur’s eyes popped open for a moment. What were these keys and was that what he woke up with? The amnesiac hoped someone would elaborate on them, but that would not happen right now.

Delia rolled her eyes. “No. Like I remind you every meeting, I’m a businesswoman, not some treasure hunter.”

“Don’t be smart with me, woman.” Edgar scolded.

“Is that even possible?” Delia retorted.

“Take it easy, please,” the Chief requested, “let’s not let our tempers get in the way of business.”

Delia nodded, and Edgar reluctantly did so a moment later. “Good. And speaking of business...” the Chief held his hands out, waiting a moment before the other two each put a large bag of coins in his hand. “Perfect.” The man greedily counted the coins as Edgar spoke next.

“Onto other matters then. How are my drug sales at your casino?” As Edgar and Delia discussed their respective drug and gambling trade in more detail and at length, Arthur started feeling uncomfortable and guilty. This subject matter wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in and he felt bad for dragging Clark into this as well. The cricket was uneasy as well, but for a different reason. Sure, these less-than-reputable matters weren’t ones he wanted to be a part of, but there was a bigger concern here. Edgar and the Chief were planning on attacking Delia today.

Clark was paralyzed with indecision, his cricket mind hopping in a hundred different directions at once. He had something to say. Something important. Something VERY bodyguardy, BUT his employer, Delia, had told him to keep quiet. SO ... if he said something, he wasn't doing his job, but if he DIDN'T say something, he definitely also wasn't doing his job.

Clark peered anxiously over at Arthur, who noticed after a moment and shot him a curious glance. Clark just stared. There was something else to consider; if he DID say something in the wrong way, he might cause the attack to spring early. That definitely wasn't a very bodyguardish thing to do. Arthur furrowed his brow and shook his head. Something was obviously wrong, but what.

Drat!, thought Clark, why can't Arthur be a little bit psychic too!

Arthur was in a completely different kind of paralysis, his hesitance at being involved in such shady dealings growing with every word. He didn't even want to think about what the contents of that jar might have actually been, that rich red powder. To HIM, Clark's blank stare was one of judgment. He'd dragged the poor cricket in here to protect some kind of drug lord and her crime lord friends.

This time Clark shook his head and frowned. No!, he thought loudly, that's not it!

Finally he just couldn't take it a moment longer. Leaning down, he whispered quite loudly into Delia's ear.

"Um excuse me ma'am but I have s-" Clark found Delia's palm on his face, pushing him back into a standing position as she tried to hide her irritation with an apologetic smile to the other seated parties. Roland and Gordon exchanged uneasy glances, as did the redheaded man from yesterday, Geoff, and chief's other bodyguard, AAAAAAAAH!

Clark stood stunned for a moment, Arthur frowning over at him. Taking a slow side-step toward the cricket as he shifted an uneasy glance around at the other four men standing, Arthur leaned in and whispered to Clark.

"What's going on?"

Clark also peered around uneasily. "It's an ambush." Arthur tried not to look shocked. "How d-" He winced "right, right ... uh ..." A thick silence hung between them. Everyone in the room was looking increasingly uneasy. It was an uneasy time. Finally Delia turned around in her seat and glared up at the two men.

Even Arthur knew without a word she was telling them to shut up. Clark just squeaked "B-but ... it's an ambush ..."

... UwU

Tension arose in the room. Delia's two business partners looked at her with stern looks on their faces, as if they were asking her to never look away again during a serious convergence.

Clark silently and slowly bumped Arthur's shoulder. Arthur caught his glance and saw what Clark saw, one of the henchmen standing behind Edgar was pulling out a small knife out of it's trousers backpocket. The henchman stood in such manner that Delia was not able to see it coming. Arthur gave the smallest nod possible and looked at his friend to let him know that he also saw it and scraped his throat. Both Edgar and the Chief looked at him as if they were about to murder him. "Luckily" for Arthur they were not after him personally.

"So....", the chief spoke out loud, demanding all attention, "how about we discuss my handling fee now?". He gave a discerned look at his city guards and started to elaborate on how much money he deserved to have based on how much money all the drug dealing had been creating for both Delia and Edgar. Edgar and Delia didn't interrupt the chief once while they listened to his boastful story. Through the corner of his eyes Arthur was still keeping an eye on the bodyguard that was hiding a knife in his left hand.

At that moment Clark was standing on Delia's right side and she had her bodyguard in the form of Arthur behind her left shoulder. Left to Arthur was the red haired city guard from the day before, he and his colleague were standing directly behind the chief. They stood there like statues, their ears wide open to gather every single word being said. The chief stopped talking, looking proud and certain of his financial victory. To his left was Edgar, sitting and looking content with his two bodyguards behind him. Edgar nodded soundly, "Hmmhmm", and smirked.

Immediately alarm bells went off inside Clark's head, "OH BOY!", his mind went. He could hear thoughts inside of all the bodyguards' heads. Secretively they were getting ready to strike soon, two other guards were getting out weapons of their own choice and hiding them from Delia's sight. "But wait.. Only two guards?", Clark wondered. One of the guards was just standing still, half-listening to the conversation that was going on, staring blankly in front of him. Clark became aware that the only guard of the Chief's or Edgar's who was not out to fight was the red haired city guard.

"What did it mean? Was the red haired guard a fresly brought in stand-in to guard the chief? Or was he just doozing off and did he not see the smirk on Edgar's face?" If only Arthur could read minds as well, if only Arthur knew what Clark knew...

But he didn't. Well, at least Clark had managed to warn him of the danger in general.

Oh, what a mess. Delia wasn't paying much attention to the bodyguards, busy with calculating whether Chief's claims had any basis in reality, and what counteroffer she would be able to get away with. (None! Clark thought, distraught. You're not getting away with anything at all if they have their way!) Edgar was silently staring at the chief, careful to not let anything out.

Chief seemed to be getting a bit nervous. He must have noticed the vacant, resolute expression on Geoff's face. The lad was staring straight ahead, determined to do a good job of guarding the chief.

"And do you remember," Chief continued his boasting, "what a striking sight was this year's Lighthouse Ceremony? Rows of guards, standing at attention, their weapons rising as the Lightstone was carried in? Why, that certainly helped the prestige of our city, if I say so myself. We guards must always stand at the ready, to protect our citizens and eliminate any threats!"

The Chief was adding extra emphasis to certain words in his speech, like a bad actor. It must have been for the benefit of Geoff, who finally caught on and started drawing his own weapon midway through the speech. Clark caught determination in his mind. "Duty", "protection". Whether true or not, Geoff must have been convinced that attacking Delia was for the good of the city.

Then, a lot of things happened very quickly.

Arthur squinted at the suspicious wording of Chief's speech. His stance subtly shifted, becoming more balanced. He watched the pair of city guards, since those were on his flank.

As Geoff was drawing his short sword with an off hand, it wobbled, caught on a metal loop that held his purse on his belt, and let out a loud, distinctive clink.

Delia drew a short breath, pieces falling into place in her head. Her hand shot towards her pearl earring, which was apparently not a pearl earring at all, because she pried the "stone" open with a flick of her fingers and swallowed it down. Immediately, the air around her took on a semi-transparent, opalesque sheen. Clark had no idea how it was supposed to work but apparently, it was for her protection.

Good, since he had no idea how to protect her otherwise.

Edgar let out an irritated grunt and banked a fist on the table, sending it off balance. It started to topple, its legs going up and towards Delia. "Now!" he grunted curtly.

The guards erupted into motion.

Without thinking twice and while silently cursing under his breath for missing Clark's warnings, Arthur grabbed the back of Delia's chair and pulled it sharply, causing the now ethereal looking woman to topple backwards with some grace as she instinctively broke the fall with a roll. Arthur wasn't sure if the sword that had cut the air where her head was just a second ago would have dealt any damage but creating distance for their employer felt like a priority.

Clark stood frozen in place. He knew he had to help his friend, and the awareness that he could not jump away anywhere significant had not left him either. He wasn't a fighter. He had no sword. He knew all these things but it was far too late for cowardice. Someone was going to die in this basement and he really didn't want it to be him or his friend.

Across the table, the Chief spewed commands at his men while retreating behind them. Arthur quickly realised Edgar was already nowhere to be seen and a cursory glance around the room suggested he had somehow managed to flee. His unusual henchmen, on the other hand, had stayed behind and were getting ready to attack.

Fueled by desperation or some kind of insect adrenaline, Clark launched himself at the Chief's unnamed guardsman and thumped against his chest with a thud, sending him tumbling backwards into a crate, narrowly avoiding the Chief. The cricket landed on the floor and having felt Geoff's intention to swing his sword in his direction, he glared viciously at the red haired guard who only just seemed to recognise who he was dealing with.

Without so much as a sound, as if they had done it countless times before, Gordon and Roland prepared themselves. In what was one of the more unusual sights Arthur had seen in the last day, the stocky henchman had compacted himself into spiked ball. "I would suggest you duck!" He heard Delia's voice and had just barely enough time to process it. Gordon, despite being handicapped by his height in the basement, took a single step back from Roland and kicked.

Arthur threw himself on the ground as the spiked man-ball whizzed over his head and embedded itself into the wall behind him loudly. With little time to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation and pick himself up off the floor, Arthur swung and kicked at metal as he felt himself be picked up by Gordon.

"What are you looking at you idiot? KILL THE BUG!" The Chief roared at Geoff, to which the confused guardsman responded by taking up his sword and shield properly...And facing the Chief. The old man rubbed his face and grumbled under his nose. "...hanged. I'll have you hanged for this." Slamming his visor shut, the Chief simply turned away and stormed up the stairs.

Meanwhile, Arthur continued to struggle against the giant man's grip. Gordon had him locked firmly by the throat and, despite the ease with which he could crush it, Arthur was confused as to why he kept delaying. It took just a few seconds as the henchman turned him around to realise just what the plan was. The amnesiac watched the short thug detach himself from the wall and re-enter his metal egg. He began rolling towards Arthur.

As Delia's barrier waned, she figured her chances of getting out of the basement alive in her current predicament would be higher if her helpers weren't dead. And here she hoped this would be a deal like any other. The casino owner picked up her chair and swung it directly in the direction of Gordon's head. The deafening twang inside the man's helmet caused him to loosen his grip over Arthur, allowing the amnesiac to kick his legs up while the rolling ball of doom crashed into Gordon's shins, knocking the two men to the ground.

Geoff pulled Clark out of the way of the diverted Roland and watched as the spiked ball sped towards and over the unconscious guardsman before the spikes pierced their way through his chest armor. A loud squish and grunt filled the dank basement and then...Silence. Arthur picked himself up off the ground and, without taking his eyes off Delia, removed the unconscious Gordon's sword and scabbard.

"Now," he began. "you have some explaining to do."

Clark knew that Delia was uncertain of how much she should say, so he decided to focus on reading her mind rather than Geoff’s, who he knew wouldn’t betray them. The man was still firm in his belief he did the right thing despite the Chief’s threat. “Sir Geoff, please watch Roland for us,” the cricket quietly asked. The man simply nodded in response.

“This was supposed to be a routine meeting. Edgar and I discuss some things, the Chief gets his bribe, we get on with our day. I had no idea they were going to attack like that.” Delia said. She was clearly frustrated at herself more than at the fact that she was almost killed.

Clark coughed just after she said that as a way to point out the woman’s failure to listen earlier. “And I’m sorry for that” Delia quickly added.

“And what was the powder for, anyway? I’m not some drug dealer, Delia!” Despite how calm he had managed to be throughout the ordeal, Arthur had a hint of anger in his voice. However he made a living in his forgotten past, he knew it wasn’t through a life like this. It felt wrong.

The woman sighed. Clark could tell she didn’t want to reveal this information, but she felt she had to. “It’s specialized medicine for a skin condition. When I was a teenager, I was pretty sick, and Doctor Smith knew my family was poor. He sold it to us at cost, which helped us a great deal. Eventually, I got better, but I convinced the doctor it was chronic. He kept sending the powder to me and I sold it for a profit. I was able to invest the money, so to speak, and now I have the casino.”

Arthur had more questions for Delia, but Clark spoke up first, and did so surprisingly calmly for someone who just learned his friend had been taken advantage of for years.

“Delia, please pay Arthur and I what we agreed to and ensure the safety of Sir Geoff. Then I would suggest going to your office where you won’t get hurt. We should be on our way.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how Clark could be so calm, but he decided he should trust his friend. The cricket had helped him on the beach, in the city and in this city’s basement, while all Arthur had done was lead him into danger. The amnesiac felt he owed Clark his trust and more. “Right,” he added.

The woman was stunned by Clark’s restraint. “...yes, that sounds good. Geoff will be safe, you have my word. Thank you for your help today, both of you.” As Clark examined the gambling magnate’s mind to confirm she was telling the truth, she gave each of them their 20 gold. “You’re welcome. Good luck, Delia” Clark added as he and Arthur left the basement. Geoff took a moment to look on in astonishment at the situation; if the cricket had took the time to read the likely former guard’s mind at that point, he would’ve known Geoff felt bad for how he suspected him yesterday.

After the pair emerged from the run-down building, the cricket looked around to see if they were being watched. Satisfied that they were not, Clark quietly told Arthur “Delia found where one of those keys is this morning. We can get it first if we hurry. Follow me.”

Arthur offered a nod, not wanting to waste time asking when he could simply follow. Geoff, on the other hand, stopped both of them with a little wave. "Um ... hello ... by the way. I uh ... I'm Geoff, from yesterday, but you probably remember all that. Um, so yeah ... I don't think I can really go back to work, you two mind if I uh ... well, tag along?"

The stammering and stumbling of the man's appeal was a stark contrast to the man they'd witnessed so far, but after exchanging a short glance both offered a little nod. "Welcome to the team ..." Offered Arthur, feeling like the moment deserved some kind of verbalization. "Now! ... let's go." Clark was already on it, headed off down the street with a kind of haste that was likely supposed to look casual.

All three of them made their way through innumerable streets in a casual yet hasty manner, until the great bedrock of the city hung over their heads, and the docks and fish market lay sprawled out ahead. Clark turned, scanning the area.

"I don't think Delia is here ..." He added hesitantly.

Geoff kind of grinned, nudging him with his elbow. "Are you using your psychic powers to scan the area?"

Clark looked a little stunned before replying in a cheery manner. "Oh no, I was just looking ... off we go, over this way!"

A large building punctuated the divide between the fishing docks and the market, a large building with a big, old, brass sign that read "The Hall of Fishmongers." While most of the building was dedicated to business, the pricing, buying, and selling of fish, one wing of the rather stately edifice was dedicated to the fishy history of the area.

Clark hurried into this side of the building, racing into the hall of fishy records, where the preserved and stuffed remains of record-breaking fish and unique species were on display. At the far end of the hall stood the Merson of Questionable Origins, which ... to be rather blunt, appeared to be the frankenpolstered remains of an unfortunate scuba diver and a potentially less fortunate manatee.

Clark gestured proudly. "There!"

Arthur and Geoff just stared, though Geoff stared with the kind of awe only a child of the city would have. Arthur's stare was more the kind that wants a refund of their zero dollars. Arthur was the first to speak. "Uh, is 'key' more of a metaphorical term?"

Clark groaned and stepped forward, knocking the little velvet divider rope out of the way as he reached for ...

Clark groaned and stepped forward, knocking the little velvet divider rope out of the way as he reached for something shimmery. "Hold it right there, fella!"

The cricket froze still and looked to his right side, where the sound came from. A petite bodyguard rushed to the gang of three. "Don't touch anything! Have you not read the large sign at the entrance?", the obviously annoyed bodyguard asked. He pointed the index finger of his small left hand to the large sign at the entrance that couldn't be missed.

Clark took a step back and looked at the bodyguard from head to toe. As his body was smaller than the average human being, the guard was panting after the fast yet short sprint. It was a peculiar contrast to see how a relatively large cricket Clark actually was compared to other crickets.

Arthur and Geoff looked at the sign near the entrance that read "DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING!". They wondered how they could've missed it. Clark was still looking at the bodyguard, now staring at his tiny hands, and a few moments later finally read the entrance sign. "I guess I did not see it", Clark said and he shrugged his shoulders.

Geoff and Arthur now realised how small the bodyguard was and Arthur's mouth opened slightly of astonishment, but quickly closed it when he noticed his mouth was hanging open. He took a look at the bodyguard's nametag and saw it was blank. He was about to ask his name when he was interrupted by the guard.

"I am happy to see that SOMEONE finally read the darn sign, even if I had to point it out myself", said the guard, irritated, "I almost thought you were blind!"

He took a few steps and circled Geoff, Clark and Arthur. Then he scraped his throat. "All the valuables inside of the 'Hall of Fishmongers' are authentic items that cannot be touched with filthy hands of the likes of you. Only true connaiseurs are able to truly value these gems", he proudly decided.

He also let them know that they had 5 minutes in total to observe the so-called 'valuable gems'. After that the Hall would be temporarily closed for an hour. A highly sophisticated business woman would come to have a private observation and was actually interested in the remains of the scubadiver and the manatee.

"Unfortunately I cannot share her name, but I can tell you one thing: she is a succesful business entrepeneur and owns a very popular casino", the guard went on, "please leave within 5 minutes so I can make sure everything looks top-notch!" He looked at all three of them, a bit disgusted, turned around and walked back to his seating.

Arthur, Clark and Geoff had a pretty good idea who was coming in to grab her key. They had to stall some time.

"Hang on are you guys looking for those keys too?" The guardsman asked in a hushed tone, careful not to attract anymore undue attention.

Arthur and Clark exchanged a glance. Both tilted their heads slightly and the amnesiac made the faintest gesture with just his face towards Geoff. Clark didn't have to read Arthur's mind to understand him and for once Arthur felt like he could read Clark's. The cricket capped off the wordless conversation with a nod.

"Geoff I don't suppose you could...Distract him? We only need a short while. I'll explain as best as I can once we're out, I promise." Geoff froze for a moment and regarded Arthur and Clark briefly before changing almost instantly. He snapped his posture straight and was now standing half a head taller than before. His overall demeanor morphed from that of a curious companion to that of a man on a mission. He pushed past the duo and headed straight for the small guardsman outside.

"Excuse me!" He began. "When was the last time this place was inspected by the city guard?"

The Amnesiac and the Cricket heard some fumbling and the voices from outside the hall faded. They didn't have a lot of time.

Clark almost instinctively leapt behind the velvet divider and scrambled for the shimmering thing he saw earlier. A light trick. A near blinding shine reflecting from the fake oyster with a fake pearl placed near the (presumably) fake merson. Meticulously polished marble seated in equally meticulously chiseled stone.

Not wanting to waste any time, Arthur climbed over the divider and began inspecting the merson. For all the fakery surrounding it, the horror show in front of him seemed very much real. The stench certainly was. There were no pockets on the creature. No logical, obvious, easy to access key storage.

Arthur felt disturbed by how quickly he had jumped to the idea of searching the merson's esophagus though his concern was quickly replaced by the feeling of disgust as he forced his hand through the sludge in its throat. Clark simply watched. Unsure of what to do and unwilling to read Arthur's mind at this particular moment.

The man laughed quietly under his nose. Realising just how ridiculous his idea had been.

And then he felt it. Clark saw the look on his face changed immediately and watched as his friend pulled out half a bucketful of sludge and...A key. This one made of a rough, coral-like material at its bow and polished, uncannily black obsidian for its blade. The duo stared at it, then glanced at each other.

"Did you know where it was?" Clark asked. Arthur shook his head.

"I just...We should go."

Clark agreed with Arthur; they were technically stealing the key, not that Delia really had much right to object after the two had saved her life. The amnesiac had implicitly recognized this theft as well, as he set some of his gold by the statue. However, a sudden noise of metal crashing on metal interrupted their conversation, immediately followed by the scream of the guard of this establishment.

“AAAAAH!”

The pair went outside in time to see the man running off along with the cause of the crashing noise. It was Roland, who had impacted the now bloody and unconscious Geoff in his spiked ball form. Based on the fact that Gordon could be seen in the distance running up to them, Arthur deduced that the fat spiked man had been kicked at Geoff like he had experienced earlier.

Roland unfurled himself and wasted no time. “Hand over the key,” he told Arthur in a threatening tone.

“How did you even find us so quickly?” Clark asked, incredulous at the situation unfolding before them.

The small man grinned and responded with two words: “your employer.”

----

In the basement, while Arthur, Clark and Geoff were heading towards the Hall of Fishmongers, Delia had taken a moment to plan her actions. She was amazed Geoff left like that; she really would have protected him from the chief, but the former city guard was insistent on going. The businesswoman began heading for the exit herself, but she was blocked in the staircase by the man who had answered the door earlier, now armed with a knife. She considered retreating back into the basement, but the voice of Gordon behind her dissuaded the woman from doing so.

“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t kill you now."

Delia sighed; she knew there was only one way out of this. “I know where one of the keys is.”

Arthur and Clark exchanged dread-filled glanced before turning their combined attention back down to Roland and his cruel little smile. There wasn't a second to waste, as each passing one brought Gordon closer and closer, but what to do, what to do? Putting distance between themselves and the menacing pair didn't seem like a good idea, given what had happened to poor Geoff ... poor, poor Geoff.

Oh, what will his poor mother think ...

ANYWAY, there wasn't time to waste. Arthur's fists clenched at his sides as he stared angrily down at Roland, still covered in blood. Roland, sensing a challenge, moved to take a step, turning a spiked shoulder up at him in care he threw a punch. Clark was busily staring at the approaching Gordon.

And then, quite suddenly, he turned and soccer-kicked the little bastard right in the Rumpelstiltskin.

Roland wasn't expecting it, busily focused on Arthur. Arthur didn't expect it, knowing Clark wasn't a fighter. Even Gordon slowed for a moment, looking a bit stunned. Stepping forward carefully, Clark prodded Roland back into a ball and lined up. Gordon, who took a few more moments to realize what was going on, dove for cover only seconds before Gordon came sailing through the air where his torso had been.

Roland, having missed his target, embedded into the second story wall of an inn with a >PING<, spiked securing him to the masonwork quite expertly.

Arthur, still kind of stunned, turned a quizzical stare toward Clark.

Clark offered a grin. "I realized ... I can kick things too" And, as if to prove his point more than being a cricket ever could, he did two effortless squats on the spot.

Arthur grinned and nodded in approval, but it was only moments before they both started to get the sense that this time would be better used fleeing, or fighting. Something anyway. Time IS generally best used for something, even if that something is a very purposeful nothing.

Roland, now stuck on the outer wall of an inn, was furiously screaming; "Just you wait, annoying cricket!"

His pal Gordon stood up behind the waste bin he had taken cover just second before. Gordon took a look at Roland, he sniffed loudly and vowed that he would not let the same thing happen to him. Gordon cracked his own neck with his hands and then stretched his body as wide as he could. He looked menacingly at Clark and his human friend while getting ready to attack them.

"Now is the time to fight or get the heck out of here", Clark whispered. Arthur nodded very slowly.

Gordon started walking toward the two and he was now only 30 feet away from them. "Don't worry Roland, I will make them pay!", he shouted at Roland who was still stuck at the wall of an inn with the name "The Doberman's Pit". A couple of guests wondered what caused the noisy ruckus and now a bunch of people stood outside watching the violent scene.

"NOW!", Arthur screamed. He grabbed Clark's hand and the both of them turned to an alley and ran into the alley as fast as they could. They were lucky as they had barely missed the impact of Gordon's thick metal shoe.
The alley was filled with empty boxed thrown out by employees of the inn and the ground was filthy, filled with rotting food. Every couple of feet a small group of mice or other vermin were eating anything that was still edible.

Gordon had a tall and thin stature which was to his benefit, were it not for the hanging drying racks with wet clothes obstructing his view. He swung his fists blindly in the direction of Clark and Arthur and even hit Arthur on the head once. Arthur fell down on the ground, but Clark pulled him away just in time when Gordon tried to squash Arthur's head to smithereens.

Arthur quickly got up and the alley ended, leading them to a crowded street that led to the market.
"Which direction should we now take?" Clark asked Arthur, hoping Arthur would have a helpful idea about the next step of their escape plan. Arthur shook his head, but they both knew they would have to hurry up if they wanted to ditch Gordon.

"Well," Clark hmmed after it became clear Arthur didn't have any suggestions. "We could go to the market, but I doubt someone like me would be able to get lost in the crowd..."

Arthur nodded. "Even if we find a quiet nook to lay low for a while, the passersby are bound to notice a cricket and a man making our way there. Gordon would just need to ask them."

Clark closed his eyes, thinking. "A quiet nook... Hey, why don't we make it back to The Homely Hearth? We're already staying there; let's get back to our room, take a breather, and decide what we should do next."

Arthur chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I'd hate to bring Gordon down on Marissa and her inn. It does seem to be the best option, though." Having said that, Arthur turned towards a narrow passage leading off the bustling Traders' Lane (called such by a sign Clark spotted above the heads of the crowd). Clark, surprised, dawdled a bit before hurrying after him.

"I thought we'd take the route through the market?" Clark asked once the din of the crowd subsided a bit. The passageway seemed to mainly be used for dumping food waste and smashed bottles. The smell wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

"Well, we could," Arthur replied, and then continued with unusual eloquence: "But see, since the inn is west of the market, and we're coming in from the north, then we can take a right turn here to get southwest, then if we find a left turn we'll get right near the side street the inn is located on, we'd just come in from the other end. Sure, we run the risk of hitting a dead end, but from what we've seen so far, alleys usually go through to the next block here, and they branch off anyways. They're mostly empty, too, and after we make several turns, Gordon will have a harder time finding us."

Arthur took in a deep breath, clearly himself surprised at the speech he had just given.

Clark blinked. "You mean you actually understand how this city's plan works? I didn't even remember which exit we took last time." As they started moving through the winding alleyways at a brisk pace, he kept muttering. "Every single alleyway here looks the same... Houses, houses, and more houses. Brick houses, stone houses, wooden houses, and people and noises everywhere. I can barely start making sense of it."

Arthur grew wearier as he listened. He hadn't thought about it, not really, but in retrospect, it made sense that Clark was feeling out of place in the city. It must be vastly different to the type of place Clark usually spent his time in. He made a mental note to try and be more mindful of the cricket's struggles.

Thankfully, it didn't take long before they reached The Homely Hearth. They snuck in as fast as they could and sighed in relief at the calm atmosphere that surrounded them right as they crossed the threshold. Marissa was drying glasses behind the bar, Morris was nowhere to be seen (presumably working at his forge), and the scant few patrons sat at a corner table were deep in their conversation and didn't pay them any mind.

Having paid for another night's stay, they made to their room laden with some sandwiches for Arthur, some greenery for Clark (he was nibbling at a scallion thoughtfully), and a pot of blueberry tisane. There, as the door closed and they sagged onto their beds, they could finally feel the tension start draining out of them.

"Pheeeeeeew", sighed Clark.

"Alright," said Arthur, wary but determined. "What do we do next?"

Clark regarded Arthur quizzically and thought for a moment before getting up and standing by the door of their room.

Having heard no sound or stray thought that could indicate danger, he motioned to Arthur to remove something and there was little doubt as to what he meant.

Arthur set out the two keys on a table and the pair watched them briefly. One more ordinary looking but quill sized and intricately crafted with an inlaid pearl, the other far stranger, as if a cursed pirate clutched it right down to his watery grave. Similar in size to the first one but with a purple, coral-like bow and a blade of obsidian that seemed to suck up the light around it.

"You said you didn't know where it was, right?" Clark asked and Arthur nodded.

"And the key you had on you when you woke up on that beach?"

Arthur shrugged. "It was all that I woke up with except for the clothes on my back. I just felt like I shouldn't lose it, but I don't know why. I can't remember anything about it."

The pair flinched at the faint sound of a commotion outside the inn. Someone yelled, two bangs echoed. Then silence. The crowd downstairs was audible again. Arthur found himself nearly diving for the table but relaxed once things seemed to normalise.

"I could feel your mind when you were...Looking for that key and it seemed almost like it wasn't you, you know?" Arthur shook his head.

"It seemed more like you knew exactly what you were looking for and where and what you needed to do to get it. Like a man on a mission." Clark continued. "The only time you really get like that is when you're fighting."

The cricket found himself pacing around the room. The floorboards creaked faintly under the tip-tap of his legs.

"There's another thing. I read Delia's mind earlier. It wasn't exactly clear given the circumstances but...The keys unlock something, obviously. One thing, to be exact. Delia seemed reluctant to let it happen but I find it hard to trust her feelings, even ones she'd never express directly."

"She also seemed pretty smug about knowing that there aren't any more keys left in the city, something Edgar seemingly isn't aware of yet."

Arthur tried to process the information as best as he could. Thoughts flooded his mind and the next course of action seemed unclear once again. He woke up not too long ago knowing essentially nothing and found himself knowing even less than before.

And yet as he took a sip of the blueberry tisane, as if hoping to buy himself time to formulate words, his thoughts were quickly interrupted with a yell that seemed to rattle the inn.

"CRICKET!" It was Morris.

The pair rushed downstairs, having pocketed the keys first, with just enough time to witness Gordon's unconscious body slump on the floor of the Hearth.

"Your very rude friend's been askin' about ya."

Clark answered Morris very straightforwardly, entirely missing the not-so-hidden meaning of what he said. “He’s not actually my friend, he was chasing after us earlier.”

Morris had seen a lot in his time in Irris; some of it before he met the love of his life and much more after that. This led to him losing his patience for criminal stupidity, and for any of Edgar’s associates, he had even less than that. Any stranger who brought people like that into his business was not to be trusted. Even if they were didn’t do anything, people who regularly spent time around people like Gordon would bring even more drama after them, and that would endanger his family.

So his first instinct was to kick these two out, and quickly.

That being said, this cricket was different. They weren’t common in the slightest, but The Homely Hearth had seen a few insect customers in the past, and they were nothing like Clark had been. This cricket had an odd but vaguely endearing persona, and he was straightforward in a way that confused the giant man.

So instead of giving them the boot, Morris looked upon the insect and his friend with suspicion, waiting to get more information.

That is, until he was interrupted by a patron’s muttering a moment later.

“Oh, they’re gonna get it now.”

Morris glared in the direction of the other customers that were there, enticing them to go back to their drinks and conversation. Now what was he doing again? Oh right, figuring out what was going on here.

“Why was Edgar’s boy after ya?” the big man asked.

Arthur sighed, feeling as guilty as Gordon was unconscious. “The truth is, we got caught up in some stuff this morning that ended up being more dangerous than we thought. There wasn’t a lot of time to think and we had to take a moment to plan what to do next, so we came here. We weren’t trying to get you or anyone else here hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. They’ve been trying to get us to pay them for years. What’d you do to tick off Leggy?” That was Marissa, who had found her way over to the three of them. Morris seemed less satisfied with that than his wife, but he was willing to go along with her for now. For his part, Clark was amused by the woman’s nickname for the dangerous criminal.

Arthur looked at Clark, who gave a meaningful nod. The cricket knew what the amnesiac wanted to do was somewhat risky, but he trusted his friend’s instincts.

“It’s actually a long story that started yesterday,” Arthur said. “If we could find a quiet place to sit down, I’d be happy to explain everything.”

Morris and Arthur’s eyes met for a moment before the former nodded. “Aye, let’s go to the bar. I’ll get the wine.”

-----

“...and so we ran back here. Again, I am sorry, and we can leave if you want.” Quietly finishing both his story and his third tankard of ale, Arthur waited to see what the reaction from his hosts would be.

Marrisa listened to the story like she was watching an exciting play, but Morris had a look on his face that was a mix between confusion and awe. “So you have them here, right? Can I...see them?”

Arthur pulled out the keys, setting them down in a place only the four of them could see them at. Trusting the two people who had provided them with a place to sleep and had defeated Gordon was one thing, but the random bar patrons did not need to know about this.

“Son, this is incredible.” It was clear Morris was impressed by both the craftsmanship of the keys and by the ones who found them. “People have been hunting these for a long time and you somehow got two of them.” The man shook his head, still slightly in disbelief about what had happened.

“What’s more incredible is Clark kicking Roland in his little balls,” Marissa retorted with a smirk as Arthur put the keys away. Now in a more serious tone, she continued “Morris, we can’t just let them wander randomly like they’ve been. That’ll just get them killed.” This last, she said while looking directly at Arthur.

“Aye,” Morris agreed, “I’ll get the trash out of here,” he said, looking at Gordon, then looked back at his wife. “You should ask Orma and the others what they know - without revealing that they have the keys, of course. Rumors, news, anything that can help get them in the right direction.”

“Right,” the woman responded, “You two should rest in the meantime.”

“Thank you for the help, Lady Marissa, Sir Morris,” Clark responded with a gallant bow. Arthur repeated the sentiment, albeit not as eloquently as his friend had.

“You’re welcome, just come back here when you find that treasure to tell us what happened. We’ll have customers lined out the door wanting to hear about it!” Marissa’s tone suggested she was teasing them a bit, but still wanted that information all the same.

The two nodded in agreement with a smile, then did what she suggested and went back to their room. Arthur felt relieved that the Hearth’s proprietors had been so helpful, but there was still much to do, starting with making sure his friend was alright with everything that was happening.

“Thank you for everything, Clark” the man said as he closed the door behind him, “you’ve helped me a great deal ever since I woke up on that beach. I don’t want to take advantage of you though, so if you want to go back home, I’d completely understand.”

The amnesiac was not lying; he had no clue where or what would happen next. What Arthur did know is that he would not force his friend into a situation like the ones they had dealt with earlier today.

"Oh. Ah. Ahem." Clark shrugged, clearly a little uncomfortable with the attention toward his feelings. "It's, you know... Sure, when I left Fletcherville to make the delivery with you, I had assumed I'd be home by now. And I've never been in the city for so long. And there's too much stone and not enough greenery and I do miss eating plain grass and...

"And still, you know, I can't help but like it here, kind of? Did you know, I can already feel I'm getting somewhat better at mindreading! I used to only get simple concepts, and even that was somewhat fuzzy, and it did get better with time, but these past few days, I think I'm getting ever more complicated thoughts and feelings off people. I think it's because there's so much of them here. I can't help but listen in on bits and pieces of thoughts, and it adds up, you know? Even if it tires me out more than it usually does." He shrugged again.

"And, you know... Back home, every bug knows I can read minds. And it makes most of them feel uneasy, which, I don't blame them, I understand totally, but... it's... no one really wants to have anything to do with me, and it's... It's nice to feel like I'm useful for once, you know?"

Clark fell silent, hunching in on himself a bit. Awkward silence dragged on for a short while, upon which he resumed with somewhat forced cheer:

"That said, I really can't say I like fighting. Now that I've tried it, I'm very positive that I, in fact, do not like it. Even if it has turned out that I'm good at kicking things. So, uh, I'd prefer it if we could avoid my involvement in that as much as possible.

"Other than that, I'm looking forward to finding the keys with you, Arthur! I'm quite interested in the outcome by now. And you are good company." The cheery tone of his last sentence, though still a bit forced, also revealed genuine fondness and enthusiasm.

Arthur was frankly a little mortified by all the emotion evident in Clark's monologue, and feeling way out of his depth. He was (evidently) not used to long talks and friendly shows of support. He was in the middle of deciding whether patting Clark on the shoulder was an acceptable way to offer support and show his gratitude, when the cricket snickered.

"I can hear you thinking way too hard over here, you know? It's okay, I know that you'll have my back when it matters." And with that, Clark smiled and made his way to his bed, where he sat with a satisfied sigh.

Arthur let out a relieved sigh of his own. Emotions were hard. Having his companion's back when it mattered—that, he could deal with.

---

One healthy afternoon nap later, Arthur and Clark were awoken by a gentle knock. Marissa's voice, muffled by the door, called out: "Mind if I come in?" Arthur jumped up to get the door while Clark sat up, yawning.

Marissa strode in in a brisk, businesslike manner. Upon reaching a bedside table, she opened her respectably sized belt pouch and pulled out a small book. It was a strange-looking book: the covers were thin sheets of wood that had small holes drilled into them along one side. The papers inside evidently also had holes in them, since they were held together by a small length of cord that passed through the holes. A title was burned into the wood of the cover in neat, if slightly uneven, letters:

A Traveller's Guide
To Key Locations
In The Country Of
Nargyll

Arthur chuckled. "Subtle."

Marissa smirked. "Open it. I couldn't collect much at such short notice, of course, but there's a summary at the beginning, and..."

She trailed off as Arthur and Clark simultaneously let out an awed sigh. "No, no, this is perfect!" Clark exclaimed.

And it really was. Inside the covers was an eclectic mix of papers, inks, and handwritings. Most of the writing had been done in a steady, loopy, easily legible hand (presumably Marissa's), but there were bits from others here and there, whoever they were. The amount of information was frankly astounding for something assembled in several hours.

"Well, I hadn't known there was a spy ring operating in Irris," Arthur joked weakly. At least, he had intended it as a joke; now, he wasn't sure.

Marissa chuckled. "Oh, you know, just something for a bunch of us nosy gossips to pass the time," she intoned dismissively, as if quoting someone full of himself. Then she winked.

Arthur wisely decided he didn't want to know.

"Well, it's all in the summary, really," Marissa continued after a bit of silence, "but let me walk you through real quick." Unfortunately, we only have three leads—for a given value of the word. The first is the rumor that the treasure itself is buried somewhere not very far from here, a couple of days' travel at most. That's likely why Edgar was so interested in finding out about the keys. The rumors vary on where the treasure is located. Some say it's on the island out in the sea—there's several, but only the largest is inhabited, if you count several fisher huts. Others say it's buried somewhere in the woods surrounding Irris. The only place of note in the woods that I know of is The Black Cairn. It's, well... We don't go there. It's an ancient burial place, and people have seen things, you know? Heard things. Best let the dead lay in peace, that's what I think of it."

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then continued.

"The other lead is about a location of a key. It's, um... I have a question for you, Clark."

"Yes?" Clark replied politely.

"...Is it true that there's a giant ant empire located underground beyond the Border river?" she asked, sounding half embarrassed to be mistaken, and half hoping to be.

"Why, yes," Clark nodded. "The Queen watches over our domain." There was plain, natural reverence in his tone.

"Well..." Marissa blinked. "I mean, that's good, this means the rumor might be correct. Apparently, two or three years back, several giant ants passed through the outskirts of Irris. On their way west, they were heard saying they were looking for a key. On their way east several weeks later, they said they had been called off the search."

"So, it might mean that a key was discovered by the ant kingdom," Clark said thoughtfully. "They are very organized, you know. Skilled at finding things."

Arthur looked at Clark. "You said before, at the fountain, that your town and the ant kingdom help each other in times of need, right?" Clark nodded. "Could we... pay them a visit, maybe? We both or just you. Is that... done?"

"Well, it's a somewhat complicated topic..." Clark replied. "But if the business is urgent, it's possible." Clark wasn't saying something, but Arthur guessed he shouldn't pry into insect politics. He settled on saying: "Good, so that's an option."

Marissa nodded and continued: "And, last but not least... There's always the capital. The Stormguard Mage Guild has a giant library, and a while ago, they have sent out a notice of a reward for any information about the keys—they're offering fifty gold for anything they haven't heard of yet, and double that if you can prove what you're saying is true. Far too much money on their hands, if you ask me..." she muttered in a disapproving tone.

Marissa continued for a while, retelling trivia about the capital—where they could go, what they could find, and whom of her intimidating network of friends they could ask for help. However, Arthur tuned it out, hoping Clark would catch that. He was feeling uneasy ever since Marissa started talking about the capital. When she mentioned "the Stormguard Mage Guild", a shiver ran down his spine, so strong that he could barely conceal it. The worst part was that he didn't know why he was reacting to the name. He could only conclude that in his past, he had had some kind of dealings with them.

Clark must have noticed his uneasy mood because the talk soon wrapped up to a close. After giving her last reassurances ("It's color-coded, and I included an index in the back"), she left with a promise to bring them up their dinner when it was ready. Much as Arthur was thankful for the wealth of information Marissa brought them, he was even more thankful for the silence.

Soon, they will need to decide how to act where to move next, but for now, he settled on falling back onto his bed and trying to blink away his discomfort.

The prospect of heading outside of Irris had both Arthur and Clark nervous. It seemed funny, in a way, how just a couple of days ago they anxiously smuggled themselves into the city and found themselves in life threatening situation no less than three times. Yet now, with the prospect of returning increasingly uncertain and their journey ahead even more so, the two found themselves walking towards the city gates at a comically slow pace.

Marissa and Morris had sent them off well, with fresh and dried food as well as water and some strawberry wine. Morris had called Arthur over shortly after their conversation with Marissa the night prior, looked the amnesiac up and down and sent him on his way once more. This unusual situation became clearer the following morning when the hulking blacksmith began showing him pieces of armor he had spent all night forging.

"It's not quite enough to make ya a knight but it'll cover what counts, you'd be no good in a full set anyway, too slow, I can tell by lookin' at ya that yer fast." The armor was light but sturdy and it did indeed cover most of the important stuff. Morris did as much as he could with what little time he had, having crafted Arthur a set of arm and leg guards, as well as scalemail that covered his upper body and the waist partially. "Pick any helmet ya like when you leave, most of them'll fit ya just fine." The blacksmith attempted something akin to a pat on the back but instead Arthur found himself clenching his teeth and hoping the man hadn't just dislocated his shoulder.

The gentle clanging of the scales on Arthur's armor was the only thing that filled the silence between him and Clark as they made their way past the fountain now. The sun was still low and most stalls had only just began to lay out their goods. The cricket didn't need to read Arthur's mind to realise something else was going on, that the nerves weren't just from the ridiculous thing they were trying to accomplish, he was nervous too after all, yet he didn't have the heart to bring it up. They had both spent that morning sombre, as if they were leaving family and the more things Marissa packed for them and the more advice Morris gave them the worse they felt. Both had considered staying, both had considered simply saying "We have two of the keys, we can keep them safe right here and no one will get any use out of them for any reason." but neither of them voiced it to the other. Through all the stress and the overwhelming want to stay put, their goal still managed to win over, as though the direction they were headed in was already decided no matter what.

It wasn't until the gates of Irris were fully in sight and far too close to possibly decide to turn back that the silence between the two was broken properly.