Sekrit changed into her bard outfit, was walking through the streets of Abram city. She would stop and talk with people, from time to time. She would join some men she seemed to know, speak for a brief minute while walking, then return by herself. Sekrit had been at this since morning.

She had growing reputation as songstress, so there were no issues. She would join the meal handouts in the slums, so someone of the residence there had begun to recognize her. It wasn’t unnatural for any of them to speak to her… And despite her tight attire, her body line was evident. Any young man could take his chance with her. …However, if someone had listened in on her entire conversations, they might have noticed something peculiar.

"Hello, miss. Nice weather we’re having… They haven’t found the carriage. It wasn’t in New Town."

"Oh, long time no see. It’s Old Town, then. It shouldn’t be far off the parade route."

"Understood. See you soon."

She had continued these kinds of conversations for dozens and hundreds of times. She spoke with someone new every time, and it wasn’t often that she spoke with the same person twice. Her conversation partners were, without fail men, anywhere from young adult to middle-aged. Not dirt poor but lower to middle class, with their occupations clearly varied. No one other than Sekrit knew that these men were all patrons of the “Hiro Tavern” as well as people of Gustav, Beltz, Valois, Blare, Lim Company and Merchants Guild… She asks them to help stopping carriage boarded by Soraya.

A little ways down the road, another man approached. The satchel on his waist, along with his pocketbook and pencil signified that he was a merchant.

"We found what you were looking for."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, there’s no mistake. A small carriage without any sigil, just like you said. It’s moving through less populated alleys."

"…They are moving around, then. Do you know where they are now?"

"Of course."

***

"Hey, this is bad!"

The coachman looked at the woman calling to him. She must have been a merchant, judging by the pocketbook and pencil protruding from her satchel. He didn’t recognize the woman as she was covered by a robe. There was nothing else noteworthy about him. While she wasn’t anyone to be concerned about, he would have to have the guards behind him deal with her if the woman is bringing any trouble. His mistress was performing some important duty inside the carriage.

They weren’t official knights or guards, but ex-mercenaries or bandits. Most of them were criminals of some kind, and their crimes were swept under the rug by them swearing their loyalty to Soraya and serving her personal orders. As long as they served the power that is House of Lambert, most crimes or violent incidents remained off the records. Once they were accustomed to that sweet taste of honey, they wouldn’t doubt most any order that Soraya would issue. Their privileges were enough to keep them loyal, and so they had been using violence for the benefit of Soraya and House of Lambert.

After a glance to the muscles keeping watch in the back, the coachman faced the woman again. He couldn’t be too careful. Soraya was seldom a target of attacks, but there a few precedents.

"What do you want? Whose path do you think you’re crossing?"

Even the normally scarce alleyway was somewhat populated with a few people spilling out of the parade crowd. Just as they spoke, a tall woman in bard clothing walked past the carriage. The coachman considered the possibility that the woman was speaking to the female bard, but she was clearly headed to the carriage. Once she was close to the coachman, she conspicuously lowered her voice.

"This carriage belongs to the Housekeeper of Lambert, I presume."

Immediately, the coachman was alarmed. Only a select few knew of that fact, and no one who did would send this stranger as a messenger.

"Preposterous."

The coachman concealed his shock to the best of his ability, but no one could blame him for letting his eyes sharpen in alert. The guards approached from behind the carriage. The coachman contemplated either to keep up his feign ignorance, or call her a drunkard and chase her away. As far as he could tell, the woman could be concealing  weapons in her robe.

The woman in robe behind her suddenly yells.

"It’s a matter of life or death! Life or death, I say! I must speak to the Housekeeper of Lambert castle this instant!"

"Nonsense! I have no idea who you are talking about?"

"What’s going on? Prostitutes?"

The guards came close, and jostled the women, who continued to yell. Seeing the guard’s sword on his belt, they must have easily deciphered that the guard had no business walking in the streets during the day.

While Abram was a safer city than most, many residents would carry around a small weapon for protection. However, that usually meant a staff or club, and almost no one would carry a blade. There weren’t many shops that carried any sharp tools that weren’t meant for the kitchen, and they were expensive to come by.

While his sword wasn’t comparable to that of an adventurer or soldier who would venture outside of the city, it was rare for anyone to carry a sheathed sword longer than a dagger. In other words, his sword was an indication that he made his living through violence. Any ordinary citizen would take one look and take a step back.

"Well, you see… I mean…"

The women lowered their voice as if they were intimidated by the guard, but they persisted. Even as his words jumbled, they continued to speak.

"…Is something the matter? Whose voice was that?"

The small window of the carriage cracked, and Soraya spoke out.

"Yes, my lady. My apologies. This women is spewing out nonsense. We’ll dispatch her immediately."

Their mistress paid well, but her punishment for failure and incompetence were severe. He couldn’t spoil her move here and now. However, the response from her after a while was neither an acknowledgement nor scolding, but an order with a rare case of slight agitation.

"…Get the carriage moving, now. Back to the castle."

"Yes, mistress. But…"

"Cut through them if you have to!"

While her voice was lowered, there was clear irritation in her tone. As far as the coachman could recall, Soraya had never shown as much agitation as this.

"We’re going."

The coachman said, and turned to climb the coach box as the guard returned to his position to shove away the shouting women from earlier.

"Please wait!"

What were the guards doing? The coachman’s enraged exclamation was cut short. Someone pulled his garment from a different direction, and lost his balance. As soon as he realized that another woman in robe nearby had silently snuck up behind him, a burning sensation struck below his left eye. 

By the time the coachman had realized that, another hand entirely was covering his mouth. Someone’s knife was pressed against the coachman’s throat, who was now being pinned to the ground.

His throat was slit without hesitation, and blood sprayed the scene. The last thing the coachman saw was the unopened carriage door, and two grinning women. His conscious faded for good in the midst of fear and confusion.

The coachman’s voice rang quietly, but faded quickly as he must have been muffled.

The three guards had noticed immediately that the coachman was assaulted. Of course, by the time the guards had noticed that, it was all too late. They too were killed easily.