Brog finally shifted his small, beady eyes toward Lencar. Lencar kept his head slightly bowed, avoiding direct eye contact, playing the part of a nervous relative who was out of his depth.
"An uncle, huh?" Brog grunted, squinting through the dim light. "He doesn't look like much. Usually, the people who want to bypass the gates are hauling illegal potions or dragging a bounty on their heads. You sure he can handle the walk, Ren? The path isn't a stroll through a flower garden."
"He's got bad lungs, not bad legs," Mariella lied smoothly, not missing a beat. "And more importantly, he's got the coin to make it worth your while. We need the old smuggler's route. The one that dumps out near the lower merchant district."
Brog rubbed his thick, stubbled chin, his eyes darting back to the ledger. "The festival makes things complicated, Ren. The syndicates are charging double for tunnel access today. Everyone wants to sneak in to pick pockets during the parades. It's going to cost you fifty gold pieces. Upfront."
It was an outrageous, extortionate sum. Fifty gold pieces could buy a small house in a border village. But Mariella didn't blink, and neither did Lencar.
Lencar reached a trembling hand into his plain, rough-spun cloak. He pulled out a heavy leather pouch and tossed it onto the desk. It landed with a heavy, unmistakable clinking sound.
Brog eagerly snatched the pouch, opening the drawstrings. The dull yellow gleam of solid gold coins reflected in his greedy eyes. He quickly counted the contents, his thick fingers moving with surprising speed.
"Exactly fifty," Brog muttered, looking back up at them with a newfound, albeit greasy, respect. "Alright, Ren. You and your uncle just bought yourselves a quiet walk. Head through the back door. Follow the chalk marks shaped like crescent moons on the walls. Don't touch the glowing moss, and if you hear something clicking in the dark, freeze until it passes."
"Pleasure doing business, Brog," Mariella smirked, tossing a casual salute before turning on her heel.
Lencar offered a timid, nervous nod to the large merchant and hurried after her. They passed through a heavy wooden door at the rear of the antechamber, stepping into a completely unlit, narrow stone tunnel that slanted sharply upward.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, the tense, subservient posture Lencar had adopted melted away completely. Though he retained the physical disguise of the shorter, softer man, his stride regained its natural, predatory confidence.
"He's a greedy pig, but his routes are secure," Mariella whispered, walking a few paces ahead. "I used him a few times when I needed to bypass border inspections for my previous... assignments."
"A useful contact to have," Lencar replied, his voice returning to its normal, measured tone, though still slightly muffled by the illusion masking his face. "Let us proceed."
The journey through the smuggler's route was a miserable, grueling thirty minutes. The tunnel was barely wide enough for two people to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, and the ceiling dipped so low in places that even with his magically reduced height, Lencar had to duck. Water dripped constantly from above, forming slick, treacherous puddles on the uneven stone floor.
It was completely dark, save for the occasional, faint patches of bioluminescent fungi that grew in the cracks of the rock. Lencar relied entirely on his enhanced physical perception and the faint, residual mana signatures left by previous travelers to navigate the path.
He took careful mental notes of the journey. He memorized the slope of the incline, the distance between the turns, and the specific locations where the air pressure shifted, indicating concealed side-passages or ventilation shafts. If he ever needed to evacuate his people from the capital in a hurry, knowing the physical layout of this tunnel would be invaluable.
True to Brog's warning, the route was not entirely abandoned. Twice, they had to press themselves flat against the damp stone walls as the heavy, clicking sound of a massive, heavily armored subterranean beetle echoed from a connecting cavern. Lencar could have easily crushed the beast with a fraction of his strength, but engaging in combat would have left magical traces and completely ruined the purpose of sneaking in.
Finally, the steep incline began to level out. The smell of stagnant water and mold slowly gave way to a different scent. It was the smell of woodsmoke, roasting meats, and the sharp, metallic tang of crowded city living.
They reached the end of the tunnel. A heavy iron grate blocked their path, secured by a simple mechanical latch on the inside.
Mariella reached up and unhooked the latch, pushing the grate outward with a quiet groan of metal. They climbed out, pulling themselves up into a narrow, shadowed alleyway squeezed between two tall brick buildings.
Lencar stood up, dusting the dirt from his knees. He looked up past the rooftops. The sky was bright and clear, completely free of the rain that had plagued Nairn.
They were inside Kikka. The Royal Capital.
The sheer volume of noise was the first thing that hit him. Even here, in the lower commercial district, the sounds of the Star Awards Festival were deafening. Music played from distant squares, merchants shouted over one another trying to sell festive wares, and the cheering of massive crowds echoed off the stone walls of the city.
"We are clear," Mariella said, pulling her oversized leather jacket tight. "The merchant's route is clean. We should separate here to avoid drawing unnecessary attention as a pair."
"Not yet," Lencar said smoothly. He gestured toward the mouth of the alley leading to the main street. "The journey was tedious. We have time before the main events begin. Let us get something to eat first."
Mariella blinked, caught slightly off guard by the mundane suggestion. She was mentally prepared to climb a watchtower and begin a grueling surveillance operation. Sitting down for a meal felt entirely out of place for a man who had just orchestrated a massive subterranean fortress and was anticipating a city-wide war.
"A meal, huh?" she asked, her voice hushed.
"A simple lunch," Lencar nodded, a faint, smile touching his fabricated features. "Walking into a tense situation on an empty stomach leads to poor decision-making. Come."
He didn't wait for her to argue. Lencar stepped out of the alley and merged seamlessly into the bustling, festive crowd.
The capital was a riot of color and energy. Bright crimson and gold banners hung from the windows of the tall, tightly packed houses. Street performers juggled fire and spun illusions on the street corners, drawing crowds of cheering children. The air was thick with the smell of fried dough, spiced sausages, and sweet wines. Everyone was celebrating the Magic Knights, completely oblivious to the fact that the very organization they were cheering for was about to be pushed to its absolute limits.
Lencar led Mariella away from the main thoroughfares, avoiding the larger, more opulent taverns where off-duty knights or nobles might congregate. He navigated the winding, lesser-known streets until he found a small, entirely unremarkable eatery tucked beneath a tailor's shop.
It was a humble place, catering mostly to local laborers and delivery drivers. They found a quiet table in the back corner, shadowed from the windows.