Margarita had always followed the principle that a good trick was worth using twice.
She prided herself on being as proficient with Feather Fall and Composite Shields as some young Advanced Mages.
However, she didn't use Invisibility often.
There were three reasons for this. First, moving while using it caused strange fluctuations in space that anyone with a modicum of Mana Perception could notice. Second, it was best paired with Feather Fall; otherwise, heavy footsteps would reveal one's position completely. Finally, the damn spell consumed an immense amount of mana.
Margarita rubbed her temples.
She pressed her body against the back alley wall, inching forward bit by bit. As expected of a back alley, it was piled with trash and home not only to rats but also many "mice." Margarita’s lips quirked as she watched the rather unprofessional scouts—the Sacrosanct Circle had likely dumped all their rookies into the back alleys.
The one leaning against the wall pretending to tie his shoe had been crouching for nearly half an hour. The one hiding behind the wooden crates was clutching a small knife, with the tip pointed back toward himself—are you trying to end it all, brother? The last one was the most ridiculous: he stood directly across from the tavern's back door, leaning against the wall and staring straight at it without even trying to pretend.
Sigh, contracted help.
But as unreliable as they were, they were watching closely... Was it really Grey? With so many eyes deployed, the person in the tavern was either Grey himself, or they were certain someone would come looking for "Grey Reed."
She moved closer to the tavern's back door. It was locked with a fairly new padlock, likely replaced recently, suggesting it was in frequent use.
She hadn't brought any hairpins today; otherwise, she could have used the "little trick" Lovell taught her to pick the lock and slip inside for a look.
But her temples were already beginning to throb. Perhaps because she had been moving constantly, the cost of maintaining Invisibility was much higher than she remembered. She needed to head back, or at least return to the President's side.
...
When Margarita returned to the alley entrance, Constance was still watching the two scouts. However, the situation had changed: a gold coin now sat in the bowl of the man at the tailor shop, and the bread basket at the bakery was empty.
The scouts had switched out, or perhaps they had received word of something.
“Did you get spotted, Sister?” Margarita deactivated her Invisibility behind Constance, the cancellation of the spell triggering a faint spatial ripple. She pulled a piece of herbal root from her shoulder bag and chewed it for a moment, her face twisting in a grimace.
Pah! Clara, you’ve been torturing me with this stuff every day, and it’s all because my mana circuits keep overloading.
“Yes,” Constance handed Margarita a small piece of the hard bread she had just bought. “Someone from the Diestwald family just passed by; he recognized me.”
Oh? A noble lord patrolling this backwater?
“When I went over to buy bread, he happened to come around the corner,” Constance brushed the crumbs from her hands. “What’s the situation in the back?”
“Three ‘mice,’” Margarita said, chewing the hard bread with a pained expression. “New lock, used often. Also, Sister, this bread is terrible.”
“...What do you plan to do?”
“We wait. We wait until the afternoon and go through the front door. If anything goes wrong, we exit through the back. There are only three outsourced... rookies there.”
“The back door is locked.”
“Sister, with your world-shaking strength, I believe in you.”
Constance gave Margarita a look, then shoved the bread into her arms. She turned and walked a few steps deeper into the alley, finding a relatively clean spot behind a pile of discarded crates to sit down. Margarita followed and sat beside her, the two of them huddling in the shadows, watching the street traffic.
“Your makeup is smudged,” Constance said.
“Huh?” Margarita reached up to touch her face, finding a faint trace of beauty cream on her fingertip. She must have rubbed it off against the wall in the alley. She decided to just wipe away the rest of the cream covering her tear mole, revealing the small dark spot beneath her eye.
“It’s not like a single mole will blow my cover anyway,” she said.
Constance glanced at her. The golden Princess Braid glowed with a warm luster in the afternoon light, and without the makeup, her face looked even cleaner, her blue eyes exceptionally bright in the shadows.
“How do you plan to enter the front door?” Constance asked.
“We walk right in.” Margarita swallowed the last of the hard bread and dusted the crumbs from her hands. “I am Mary von Windermere; a noble lady visiting a tavern to find someone is perfectly natural. You’re my sister—just follow my lead.”
“And if the people inside ask who we’re looking for?”
“We’re looking for Grey Reed,” Margarita said. “I want them to know that the Windermere family is searching for him. If Grey is in their hands, they’ll hesitate to move against us; if he isn’t, they’ll be curious why the Windermeres are looking for him.”
Constance fell silent for a few seconds.
“You’re using yourself as bait.”
“I’m the Consultant.” Margarita turned her head, offering a professional smile. “Being bait is part of a Consultant’s job.”
“When you mentioned being bait in the Student Council, I said we’d discuss it in Arlan.”
“This is Arlan, Sister.”
Constance stared at her for a while, then took a silver brooch from her person and pinned it to the inside of Margarita’s collar. The brooch was small and completely hidden under the fabric.
“The Windermere family token,” she said. “If something happens, show this. It can buy us a little time.”
“Is a little time enough?”
“Enough for me to draw my sword.”
...
In the bustling downtown area of eastern Arlan, rows of shops stood side-by-side as itinerant vendors and street hawkers shouted in a chorus. Sellers of grilled fish, shell jewelry, old clothes, and unknown herbs cried out their wares. The air was thick with the scent of sea brine, cooking oil, and cloying, cheap perfume.
Joshua and Lovell were wandering aimlessly through the area.
“You and Margarita had a fight.” Joshua picked up a necklace to examine it before putting it back on the stall. It was a silver chain with a blue glass bead pendant, the craftsmanship crude; Joshua touched the pendant tucked into his own collar—the one Margarita had given him was far superior.
Lovell sat on a nearby planter, munching on an apple and ignoring him.
“Is it because she’s keeping things from you again?”
“No,” Lovell tossed the apple core into the planter and plucked a blade of grass to wipe her hands. “I’m angry that she always puts everyone else’s safety first.”
“You know, I used to think my Master was the most amazing person. He taught me how to read people, taught me the trade, and raised me for nearly ten years.”
“Then I met her.”
“The first time I saw her in the woods, I thought she was just an ordinary little girl with pink eyes.”
“Half a head shorter than me,” she gestured with her hand, then hopped off the planter to walk beside Joshua. “So small, yet I felt like everything she did was right.”
“The Student Council, the Sacrosanct Circle, and now this business with my Master,” she counted on her fingers. “Don’t you think her head would hurt, carrying all those things at once?”
Joshua didn't answer; he was still looking at the jewelry stalls. Dozens of necklaces and bracelets hung there, silver and copper, sparkling in the sunlight.
“Maybe it does, but she’d never say it,” Lovell looked at the side of Joshua’s face. “That’s just who she is. I half expect her to come up with a grand plan to save the world one day.”
“And if that plan required someone to be sacrificed, it would only ever be her.”
Joshua’s hand paused on a necklace.
“Joshua, Margarita is a good girl.” Lovell reached out and picked up a necklace from the stall. The pendant was a small metal flower with petals coated in pale blue enamel, and at its center sat a tiny, pale pink diamond chip that gave off a faint glimmer in the sunlight.
—A forget-me-not.
...
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