Lucid began. "I am sure he did not mean for your relative to pass away in such a needless death."
The woman froze, her hands resting against the side seam of her trousers.
"He causes a lot of trouble wherever he goes," Lucid continued, trying to find the right words without sounding like he was making excuses for a criminal. "He moves too fast and he rarely thinks about what happens after he leaves a district. But I am sure he meant well when he sent funds to this place."
The woman closed her eyes. The tightness around her mouth softened, and her shoulders dropped an inch as she let out a long, slow breath through her nose. When she spoke, her voice carried the rhythmic, practiced cadence of someone reciting lines they had known since childhood.
"May Mother Alisia guide her soul to oblivion in her final embrace."
Lucid kept his face neutral, but the phrase triggered a familiar cold sensation at the back of his neck. He had heard that exact prayer repeated in every corner of the Scattered Realms since the day he dropped out of the sky.
He had heard it uttered by corrupt academy teachers before they disciplined a student. He had heard it muttered by street thugs in the lower alleys right before they pulled out their knives. He had heard noble aristocrats chant it over glasses of expensive wine, and he had heard bleeding soldiers whisper it into the mud. Regardless of whether the person speaking was a villain, a recognized hero, a priest, or an orphan, they all used the same words.
'Is that a universal prayer?' Lucid asked inside his own head.
'It would seem so,' Alice replied smoothly from the recesses of his mind. 'Nothing brings a divided continent together quite like the shared expectation of absolute nothingness. It is remarkably efficient.'
Lucid ignored the Alice's sarcasm and focused on the woman standing before him. She opened her eyes and looked at him with a calm, somber expression.
"Well," she said, adjusting the cuffs of her sweater. "I am currently on leave from the capital, but my leave ends next week. If you ever come back here, or if your travels take you north into Vex, those are my credentials."
She pointed toward the small card that sat at the table which she had slid over... with the book, It bore the official crest of Vex's symbol, a shield with a lion etched to its surface, unde it a small line letters could be read. the civil registry.
"I work directly under the Royalty decree," she explained. "So drop by the administrative office if there is anything you wish sorted out. Work permits, travel vouchers, or even just clearing your name off a harbor watch list. The clerks are much more cooperative when someone from the upper desk vouches for you."
"Though with this new unexperienced queen... I can't guarantee everything..."
She sighed slumping over the table. "Oh king Henry... why did you have to die so early..."
She offered him a somber smile that did not quite reach her eyes, a look practiced by people who spent their lives dealing with meetings and estates.
"And as for that generous scoundrel," she added, her tone turning quiet.
"Tell him that as long as Mira is safe, I do not blame him for what happened."
Lucid looked at her confused.
Did they have some kind of connection?
She raised her hand and waved goodbye, turning her back to the wooden railing to step inside the renovated house.
Lucid raised his hand to wave back, then stopped midway. His fingers hovered in the cool air as a sudden question formed in his throat. He debated calling out to her, asking who Mira was, or perhaps explaining where Valen was currently hiding along the southern border.
'No,' Alice commanded firmly inside his skull. Her voice was sharp and cold, cutting through his hesitation like an iron blade. 'Do not complicate our departure with unnecessary sentiment. We have enough problems without carrying messages for fugitives.'
Lucid stood frozen on the bottom step of the porch, his jaw slightly tense as he weighed the entity's warning against his own curiosity.
Ayame stepped away from the porch and walked up beside him. Her bare feet climbing softly over the stairs, silent.
She looked at his raised hand, then up at his conflicted face, her expression entirely devoid of sympathy.
"Yes," Ayame said bluntly.
Lucid looked at her. "Yes what?"
"Yes, you talk too much," she said, turning her shoulders toward the street. "And yes, we are leaving right now before another clerk gives you a book."
She did not wait for his agreement. She simply started walking down the lane, her dark coat flapping slightly in the rising harbor wind.
Lucid let his hand drop to his side.
He felt the hard square outline of the small green book against his thigh, right beside the hex manual. Taking one last look at the quiet orphanage porch, he turned away from the yard and hurried his pace to catch up with Ayame as they continued down the road toward the lower harbor.
The street ahead grew busier as the afternoon light shifted toward evening. Overhead, strings of yellow paper lanterns were being tied between the timber eaves of the fish houses and the upper balconies of the residential blocks.
The entire lower district was preparing for the evening celebrations of Saint Lucid's month, oblivious to the fact that the person whose name they were toasting was currently trying to find a cheap pair of boots before leaving town.
"Where are we heading first?" Lucid asked as he fell into step beside Ayame.
"The tannery lane," she replied without looking back. "The cobblers there owe the harbor guard fewer favors than the ones near the square. If we buy shoes from the main avenue, the church patrols will know which direction we walked before the sun goes down."
"You really think they are tracking shoe purchases?" Lucid asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I think white-robed priests hold grudges," Ayame said sharply. "And you broke one of their collarbones just now... They have long memories for insults and very short tempers for people who do not kneel."
Lucid could not argue with that assessment. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, watching the shadows lengthen across the damp basalt stones. The salty wind blowing off the docks carried the smell of roasted barley and fried fish from the harbor stalls, a sharp contrast to the cold, antiseptic scent of the upper noble district.
As they passed the last row of timber warehouses, Lucid reached into his pocket and brushed his thumb against the smooth cover of the rose-embossed book.
'A children's tale made by the Leonardo Davinci of this supposed world,' Lucid thought, shaking his head slightly.
'People read what they lack,' Alice observed quietly. 'The continent lacks peace, so they read about monsters learning manners. It is pathetic, but predictably human.'
'Well it's either that or some gruesome horrid handbook, at least it does not require a sacrifice,' Lucid thought back.
"Everything requires a sacrifice,' Alice corrected him smoothly. 'Even bedtime stories cost paper and ink."
"Moreover.. that.. hadnbook where did you get why does it smell... like death..."
Lucid took it and looked at it once more.
"Oh this."
"It's some kind of..." He stopped.
Could he trust Alice once again?
"I bought it... It's just a journel taht i carry with me..."
"but you said some other stuff when you spoke to Aurelia..."
"Oh... it was... just bluff..." he sighed waving at the empty air with one hand.
Ayame suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the narrow gap between a sailmaker's shop and a stacked pile of empty brine barrels.
"What now?" Lucid muttered, pressing his back against the cool wood of the shop wall.
"Patrol," Ayame whispered.
She pointed her chin toward the main intersection some distance ahead. Four figures dressed in the heavy white cassock of the Luminari Covenant were marching past the well basin, their brass-tipped staves held upright.
They were stopping every traveler carrying a pack, checking papers and inspecting faces with systematic efficiency.
"But they don't have Authority here..." he whispered.
Lucid watched them through the gap between the barrels. The preacher from the fountain square was not among them, but these four looked younger and far more eager to prove their devotion to the capital.
"They are blocking the main road to the northern gate," Lucid whispered.
"Then we do not go down this path," Ayame said flatly.
He thought for a moment.
"I say we... go down."
Then he noticed something.
Heavy breathing.
Lucid looked up at Ayame.
She was covered in sweat. Her face carried a faint tinge of red.
"Alice remarked, 'I said I wasn't against the idea, but it hurts watching.'" She sighed in disappointment.
They were pressed closely against each other.
Her soft curves pressed against him as her body trembled from the strain of the situation. As the crowd moved past them, the small space beside the alley wall created a brief private area where they could remain unnoticed.
Once again, reality descended upon him like an avalanche.
Ayame placed a hand on his head and pushed him down against the wet, damp stone.
"Not here..." she said in a supressed whimper.