As Cormag and Morana entered the shop, they nearly bumped into Chauncey, his arms full of parcels.

“Ah, we were just speaking about you not too long ago.”

Chauncey smiled uneasily as he tried to rearrange his load without dropping it. “Oh, nothing but good things I trust?”

Morana brushed him off with a flippant wave as she squeezed past him. “No, of course not, don’t be foolish.”

Cormag took one of the larger bundles from Chauncey to lighten his load. “Got everything you needed then?”

“What do you care? Not like you’re joining us.”

“Whatever,” Cormag dropped the parcel and slammed open the door. “I’m going home. Try not to die.”

Morana frowned. “We’ll meet you at the gates then.”

Chauncey fumbles his packages as the door slams again. “Gods damn it! Why do you travel with that cretin?”

Morana kneeled down and began stuffing a small satchel with the packages.

“Is that a bag of holding? Aren’t those rare? And expensive?”

“Only if you’re poor or live out in the middle of nowhere.” Morana held out her hand for the last remaining package. “As for Cormag, he’s just pouting because he cares about me. I think…either way, it’s rather flattering.”

 “I see…. well,” Chauncey holds out his hand to help her to her feet. “Shall we be on our way?”

Morana ignores the gesture and continues on her way. “Sure.”

Chauncey puts on crooked smile to mask his offense. “I never actually learned why it is you seek to cross into Xanavene.”

Morana shrugged. “If nothing else, there’s a war on, meaning lots of fresh subjects and ingredients.”

“Ingredients?” Chauncey muttered, unsure if he misheard her and too afraid to ask. “And you’re guard? What of him?”

“I dunno. I’m under the impression he is chasing ghosts.”

 “Ah." Chauncey furrowed his brow as he wracked his brain for a means to seize the moment, leaping forward to walk at her side as a verse struck him. "A ghost with pale skin like polished marble, and silken hair made of the void betwixt altair and vega perhaps.”

Morana stopped abruptly to turn and give him a puzzled stare. Chauncey laughed nervously as the stare continued in awkward silence for longer than it should have.

“Are you a bard?” She asked at length.

Chauncey scratched a small patch of stubble on his cheek, anxiously avoiding eye contact. “I dabble….”

Without explanation, she spun on her heels and continued as nothing had happened. “While I understand the sentiment, those stars don’t inhabit the same region of the sky, making the metaphor inaccurate.”

 “I..I see….” Chauncey said as he lightly jogged to catch up with her. “If not the stars, then to what doth thy beauty compare?”

“Why are you talking like that?”

Her words and disapproving tone cut him like a knife. “Er…its poetic verse.”

“Sounds antiquated and hokey to me.”

Undaunted, Chauncey cleared his throat as he thought of a retort. “Your acerbic tongue cuts finer than a honed dagger, but the wounds only make the heart beat that much faster for you.”

Morana shot him a sidelong glance cold enough to freeze 100 proof. “…tell me, do these honeyed words usually net you success?”

Chauncey visibly deflated. “Urk! Uh…hahaha I have been known to woo many a maiden with my verse, yes…”

 Morana Craned her neck to meet his avoidant gaze. “So, you are a bard then?”

 “On occasion.” He mumbled, hoping to end the topic once and for all.

Morana pulled him to the side of the road and set down her guitar case.

“Then use this occasion to practice your craft and make us some money.” She quickly unlocked the case and puled out her instrument. “I smell something sweet and I would very much like to have some.”

“Ah, a sweet tooth eh?”

Morana strummed her guitar. “Well bard, start singing.”

“Well, this isn’t really the proper venue, we should go where the people are.” Chauncey looked around, and settled on a nearby beer garden built up against the canyon wall. “Ah! There we are my lovely, the perfect place for our duet.”

A traveler bumps into Morana, knocking her to the ground. “Oh!”

Chauncey shook his fist at the cloaked traveler as he helped Morana to her feet. “Hey! Watch where you’re going will you!”

“Thousand pardons.” The cloaked figure calls back as they disappear into the crowd.

“The nerve of some people; thinking only of themselves. Are you alright?”

Morana dusts herself off, wincing as she brushes the torn stocking and bleeding scrape on her knee. “Yes, just a little scrape is all…”

Morana reaches for her satchel to retrieve a healing poultice, only to find it gone. The frayed leather straps hanging from her belt being the only signs it was ever there.

“A cut purse…. how annoying…”

“Cut purse?” Chauncey bolts upright and unslings the bow from his shoulder. “Oi! Thieving bastard! Get back here!”

Chauncey prepares to fire an arrow but cannot get a clear shot. Without a second’s hesitation, he took off after the thief. The cutpurse slips between the narrow cracks between storefronts and shimmies up onto the roofs. Upon rounding the slippery corner, Chauncey stops with a startled gasp. The space between buildings was short, and barely wide enough for a man to sidle through. The buildings themselves were built directly against the canyon walls, yet there was no sign of the thief.

“What the hell?”

Chauncey dejectedly backs out of the narrow alley just as Morana launches an ghoulish hand from a glowing violet glyph. The spectral arm reaches up to the rooftops and snatches the thief from the rafters, brusquely dropping them to the pavement below.

“Oof!” The thief cried as the air was forced from their lungs. “Alright lady! I give! I give!”

Morana slowly approaches her captive, still clutched in the summoned wraiths grasp.

 “You have something of mine.” Morana stated calmly.

 “Yes,” Chauncey said breathlessly. “and you are lucky that it was the fair lady that caught you and not I.”

“Grrrrrr…. here…” The thief fumbles for the stolen purse and tosses it at Morana’s feet.

 “Wise decision,” Chauncey said, summoning as much smug self-righteousness as he could muster. “let this be a lesson to you.”

Morana picked up the purse and frowned, shaking her head. “No, this isn’t enough…”

 “What?” The thief cried as they struggled anew.

 “Yeah, What?”

 “You’re a pro right?" Morana hefted the purse in one hand as she placed her foot to the thief's chest as she releases the spell. "Surely, I was not the first person you happened upon. Give me your take for the day.”

Morana kneels down and removes the thieves’ hood, revealing it to be Felicity, the woman she had met just hours earlier.

 “A woman?”

“What? You’re crazy! This is extortion!” Felicity’s eyes widened as she realized who it was she was speaking to. “Oh bollox, not you again.”

Morana’s expression and tone did not change upon recognizing the thief. “Oh, it’s my best friend.”