Nesta's heart ached with relief as the surge of energy emanating from the amulet within his grasped rejuvenated him to his very core. The ripples of its effect made its way to his boggled up mind resulting in his feeble body becoming a little bit used to the pressure exuding from Clara's armor.
He wondered why she would give such a present to someone she has just met.
What did I do to deserve such a gift?
He asked himself clearly baffled by Clara's actions. His past life was full of people who tried their best to exploit him when ever they had the chance. As a result this, his ideology of people slowly became negative with each passing moment—he no longer liked to associate with his peers since they would use it as a medium to subject him to countless acts of violence.
I will also have to repay her one way or the other.
He sighed and followed silently behind Clara.
She on the other hand was currently moving through the sea of people swarming around her endlessly like a plague of locusts—seeking, turning and twisting to devour everything and anything in its path. The holes within her mask flashed red each time a passerby mistakenly bumped into her clearly indicating she was a few hits away from exploding.
As she walked, the pieces of black medieval armor shifted with a muted metallic whisper. The bow strapped across her back tilted slightly with each step, while the quiver beside it gave a subtle, controlled sway, its fletched arrows brushing softly against the armor. Her movements remained steady and unforced, so the gear followed her with a smooth, rhythmic motion that matched her quiet, effortless grace.
A couple of the people who were swarming around her like a mob were dressed in several pieces of armor but none of them gave the kind of feeling her own was giving. A few steps forward and she turned only to see the eyes a boy in a kimono glued to her back.
...
The market square churned with noise and motion—vendors shouting, musicians playing, shoppers drifting in restless clusters. Nesta walked a few steps behind the woman in black armor, his small kimono brushing against the dust of the stones with each stride.
Her presence cut a quiet path through the chaos. With every step she took, her bow and quiver shifted in a gentle, steady rhythm across her back, the arrows' fletching catching flashes of sunlight. Nesta watched the movement with open fascination, doing his best to match her pace without looking too obvious.
But as he leaned slightly to the side to get a clearer view, he nearly collided with a passerby. The jolt drew a sharp rustle of cloth—and her brief, backward glance.
Caught, Nesta straightened at once. She held her gaze just long enough to let him know she had noticed, a faint curve of amusement touching her lips before she turned forward again. Without breaking her stride, she continued on, and he followed—still flustered, still curious, and now more determined to keep up.
Nesta quickly turned his head to the side while humming to a song with his cheeks as red a tomato. He followed behind once again when he came to his senses and realized that Clara was moving on without him.
Is she baiting me?
He wondered while brushing his fingers through his hair a little bit perplexed since he couldn't see her smile through the thick oni mask she was wearing.
The market square was a shifting maze of colors and voices, but Clara moved through it with purposeful ease. Her black armor caught the morning light in muted glints, the bow and quiver on her back swaying with each sure step. Nesta stayed close at her side, his kimono fluttering as he tried to match her calm pace, though his eyes darted everywhere—at the spice stalls, the jewel-bright fabrics, the steam rising from food carts.
Clara paused at a stall of polished trinkets, scanning each item without touching a single one. Nesta looked up at her, waiting for some clue, but she offered none. With a quiet hum of thought, she moved on.
They visited stall after stall—herbs, scrolls, chipped pottery, even a tent heavy with incense—yet she only murmured a polite "no" to each vendor. Nesta grew more puzzled with every stop. She wasn't searching randomly; she inspected things too quickly, too deliberately. She was following a pattern he couldn't see.
"Clara… what are we looking for?" he finally whispered.
She didn't answer at once. Instead, she knelt so her eyes were level with his, her expression focused yet strangely gentle.
"You'll know it when you see it," she said quietly. "And when you do… don't speak it aloud."
Before he could ask more, she rose and moved on, weaving into the deeper end of the market where the air grew cooler and the crowds thinned. Nesta hurried after her, a shiver of excitement running through him. He still didn't know what they sought—but now he was certain of one thing:
Whatever it was, it wasn't something ordinary.
His heart pumped with joy when her words entered his ears with her breath washing over the back of his neck causing him to shudder a little. His face became red as he was now stuck realizing whether he was embarrassed or happy.
"You really know how to get people hyped up…"he whispered out through jagged breaths. His mortal body was finding it hard to keep up with the speed she was moving at.
...…
A few minutes later and Nesta was standing in front of a blacksmith's shop with his arms crossed and a baffled and betrayed expression on his face.
Anger and disbelief filled up his face as the gentle air of the place swirled around his body which was clad in the ink-blue kimono. It's elegance was something which could cause an uproar in a place like this.
Nesta tried his best to not look out of place. Although the number of people within these parts of the city had dwindled significantly, he could still see a couple of them here and there.
"She fucking left me here! How I'm I suppose to stand here and act as if nothing is wrong… What is taking her this long?"he asked slowly. He rubbed his face a couple of times trying to relieve himself of the sense of unease that was washing over him at the moment.
Clara had told, no, ordered him to hold on to something while she visited the blacksmith. She warned him a couple of times that he should guard the item like his life depended on it. As a result of this Nesta grabbed on to it with all the strength his frail body could muster.
Despite his intentions to not stand out in the crowd, he still did and two figures could be seen approaching him from a nearby store. Nesta gulped down saliva when his eyes met with theirs. "What do these guys want from me?"he asked hoping in his heart that Clara will swoop in and come and save him.
Several seconds passed and that idea was quickly discarded since no one had even moved out of of the place since the moment the idea came into his head.
The two figures drifted out of the crowd as though the market parted for them. One was tall and heavy with a hooded cloak, the kind that swallowed the face in shadow. The other, younger and quick-eyed, scanned the stalls with the restless attention of a stray cat.
The tall one spoke first. "You're waiting."
Nesta nodded, clutching the wrap a little closer. "For someone."
"A girl?" the younger man asked, smile twitching at the corners. "Went inside?"
Nesta didn't answer.
The tall figure crouched slightly, lowering their voice. "Crowds like these… not always safe. Things slip away." Their tone was calm, almost kind—too kind.
Nesta swallowed. He didn't like how the younger man's eyes kept flicking to the bundle in his hands.
"What've you got there?" the younger one asked casually, circling just a half-step to the side.
"Nothing," Nesta said too quickly.
The younger man's grin sharpened. "Nothing important. Good."
The tall figure's hand rose, as if to rest gently on Nesta's shoulder—reassuring, distracting. Nesta blinked, instinctively leaning back.
And in that fraction of a second, the younger man moved.
A swift tug, a brush of cloth, quicker than Nesta could gasp—and the weight was gone. The thief was already weaving into the crowd, Clara's bundle flashing once before disappearing behind swaying baskets and startled shoppers.
"Stop! HEY!" Nesta jumped to his feet.
The tall figure was already stepping away, no hurry in their stride. They gave him a small nod—apology or mockery, Nesta couldn't tell—before they, too, vanished into the market.
Nesta stood alone, hands empty, breath shaking as the noise of the market crashed back around him.
Clara was still inside the shop.
And he'd lost the one thing she trusted him to guard.
Read and support.