Mabel remained silent for several moments after Sanè explained his need for supplies and mounts. The room felt heavier than before, but not with hostility, but with calculation....as she try to ascertain whether she should give him what he wants or not.
She studied him carefully—how casually he stood within her chamber, how the shadows still seemed reluctant to release him fully, as though darkness itself acknowledged him as kin.
At last, she spoke.
"I will agree," she said coolly, folding her arms. "But understand this—what you ask for will not come cheap."
Sanè smiled, he was amused rather than being offended.
Without another word, he reached into a pouch at his side and overturned its contents onto the polished table. The sharp clatter of metal echoed through the room as thirty Mark coins spilled out, their dull sheen catching the candlelight. The weight of them alone spoke of violence earned elsewhere.
Mabel's gaze dropped to the coins. She picked one up, and examined it briefly before nodding.
"This will suffice," she said. "The supplies and mounts will be arranged."
She rose and moved toward the door, knocking once before calling for the guard stationed outside. The door opened, and a young guard stepped in, eyes briefly scanning the room.
But Sanè was gone.
At least, to the guard, the chamber appeared empty save for Mabel herself.
She felt it immediately—a subtle disturbance, like a ripple passing through still water. Her lips curved faintly, a mix of surprise and reluctant admiration.
She issued her orders calmly.
"Prepare supplies and mounts," she instructed. "Whatever can be spared. Leave them at the outer district before dawn. Someone will collect them."
The guard bowed and left without question.
The moment the door shut, the shadows near the far wall thickened unnaturally. They folded inward, drawing together like ink poured into water—until Sanè stepped forward, fully formed, as if he had never left at all.
Mabel turned sharply.
Her composure cracked just slightly. "What… are you?"
Sanè tilted his head. "A dangerous question."
She pressed on regardless. "Why were you with the Masked Ones the last time we met? What are you planning?"
He chuckled softly, clearly entertained by her persistence.
"You ask too much," he said. "But I'll answer this—what we plan has little to do with your city."
He answered her.....clearly trying to act cool....when he had no idea what the Masked One's plan on doing.
He stepped back, already preparing to leave. "Besides," he added, "I've already given you a gift. One you won't notice just yet."
She frowned. "What gift?"
But he did not answer.
He just passed behind her, his hand brushed lightly against her back—so briefly it might have been dismissed as accidental. In that instant, the faint black vein-like pattern that had once marked her neck was drawn away, absorbed without sensation.
By the time she turned, he was fading.
"We'll meet again," his voice echoed faintly. "Good luck defending your city."
Then he was gone.
Mabel stood alone, the silence pressing in.
Her hand rose unconsciously to her lips, her thoughts spiraling despite her efforts to remain composed. Anger, embarrassment, and something dangerously close to curiosity tangled within her chest.
Next time, she swore silently, things would be different.
Sanè moved through the city like a living shadow, slipping between torchlight and stone with effortless grace. He had expected the interruption—and sure enough, as he entered a broader street near the inner district, he sensed them.
Ban stood ahead, arms crossed, flanked by two wardens whose presence weighed heavily on the air. They made no effort to hide their aura. They didn't need to.
Ban's eyes narrowed the moment he saw him.
"Who are you," Ban demanded, "and what business did you have in Lady Mabel's chambers?"
Sanè stopped, clearly unbothered.
"I admired her," he replied plainly. "And I wished to see her for myself."
Ban's expression changed, as memory of that day filled his mind—masked figures escaping under Mabel's command.
"So you were one of them," Ban said slowly. "One of the Masked Ones she allowed to flee."
His aura flared briefly—Wyrmscourge realm, his aura was sharp and oppressive....not your average Joe.
"No harm intended," Sanè replied calmly. "I came for something. I've already obtained it."
Ban felt it then—a subtle realization, cold and unwelcoming. But he said nothing.
Sanè turned to leave. But before he could do that, Ban's voice interrupted him.
"Did I give you permission to go?" Ban snapped.
But ofcourse before the wardens could move, darkness swallowed Sanè whole.
His final words drifted back like smoke.
"I don't need your permission. And you should stay away from Mabel."
The wardens surged forward—but there was nothing left to pursue. No presence, no trail.
They wanted to investigate more but Ban told them not to.
-
At the outer district, dawn had not yet broken. A lone guard waited beside six mounts and neatly packed supplies.
Sanè emerged from the shadows.
"Four will do," he said.
The guard complied without question.
He mounted one of the horses and led the others away, passing through the gates unchallenged. The city did not resist his departure.
As Dravenloch faded behind him, Sanè allowed himself a faint smile.... clearly satisfied with the way things unfolded.
After some time....he met with his other companions....
111 already tired of waiting.....met him. "How did you get the supplies and mounts?" He asked as he took the reins of one of the horses.
"That isn't important....we need to head out" Sanè said cooly.
"Yeah, we have wasted enough time already getting these supplies.....we should be on our way" 200 added.... taking the reins of one of the horses from Sané.
123 did the same thing.
They all mounted their horses...
"But seriously though, how did you get this supplies?" 111 asked again, not intending to let Sané off the hook just yet.
Sanè chuckling, as he answered him, "Well if I told you, it was because of my charms....I was able to buy the resources we need from her, would you believe me?"
They all snorted.....but no one replied.
So they rode on...