Chapter 13

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"This is a terrible idea," I say while Amelia drapes the colorful shawl over her head. She has been complaining ever since Fletcher told us his plan, and even I can't deny how funny the situation is. Amelia's getup sticks out like a sore thumb between Fletcher and I. Luckily, no one can see us from behind the old wooden barracks.

"Why do I have to be the distraction?" Amelia asks.

"Because," Fletcher says. "You're a woman, and she couldn't act to save her life."

I roll my eyes.

"I still don't understand why we just don't steal the guards' horses," Amelia says.

"All the horses owned by the town itself are accounted for. No one cares about a missing gypsy caravan."

"Ugh, fine. But you owe me, I hate this frilly thing."

Fletcher had snatched a pink, lace dress from one of the stalls while the vendor wasn't looking, and practically forced Amelia into it. He swore it is part of his "master plan," but I think he just wanted an excuse to put her into something else than trousers or an ale-stained skirt.

"Well, I think it suits you," he says with a disgusting smirk. "Shows that you actually have assets."

Amelia points a mechanical finger at his chest and gives him a look that could kill. "Watch yer mouth you pig, or you might get a fist in it." He backs up a bit, his face still covered by a disgusting grin, and I fight the urge to gag.

I scan the busy crowds, still well into their festivities. I hope the others are having more luck than we are. As much as I love a good hijacking, Fletcher's plan is bound to get us killed. I don't think this is is exactly his forte. He strikes me as more of a "swing your ax and hope for the best" kind of guy.

People are slowly starting to move towards the hall down the road from where we are waiting. It is a large, ancient building with heavy wooden arches and big braziers burning on both sides of the gigantic ornate double doors. Above the door hangs a large red flag with the symbol of a monstrous head in white, the symbol of the giant. Magical creatures aren't as common as they used to be, and those that still remain aren't usually the friendliest bunch. But from what I hear, the people of Minstar are very committed to pleasing their mythical giant. Hopefully it will be dark by the time we leave, otherwise, we might have an angry mob coming after anyone who interrupts their ceremony.

"But what if I forget my lines?" Amelia whines, trying to adjust the dress to her comfort. Seeing Amelia in a dress is by far one of the strangest things I have seen since we began our journey. Stranger than bear headed men or evil, talking snakes.

I fidget with the hem of my cloak. This town reminds me so much of where I grew up. I don't like to think of those days or that place. Too many bad memories and bad people. But this small village doesn't do much to keep those memories from revisiting me. The only huge difference between the two places is their trade. Minstar handles gold, while Padreia gains most of its wealth from agriculture and the farms surrounding it. At least, that's how it was when I left. I wonder if the bloody place can even still sustain the poor souls foolish enough to live there.

"Okay," Fletcher says. "Just make sure you buy us enough time to loosen the saddles."

"Let's just get this over with," Amelia grunts. She then steps out from behind the barracks, into the busy street with a, strangely convincing, horrified look on her face.

"Help!" she screams, flailing her arms around with the elegance of a dying octopus.

Some people move closer to see what is going on. "What happened?" a scrawny man asks.

"I was attacked by a vicious beast in the Western Wood!" Amelia's acting turns out to be better than her singing.

A woman nervously nudges her child away from the octopus. "What do you mean? There is no beast in there."

"Of course there is. Saw him with my own eyes I did. He was huge, no, gigantic and covered in fur! His claws almost robbed me of my life. He will come in the night and feast on yer children!"

Now the crowd is really getting excited and most people in the street have crowded around Amelia, including the guards. Perfect.
"Let's go," I whisper. We slip in behind the barracks, putting ourselves between the stone wall on the edge of the town, and the old wooden exterior of the large building. Fletcher points at a small window a few feet above us. He locks his hands together and crouches down. Reluctantly, I place my foot on his hands and allow myself to be hoisted up. Luckily the window is open. I peek in to see an empty room with a cluttered desk and a few old maps on the walls. Minstar clearly doesn't spend much money on their safety. Guess the "giant" takes care of that too.

"Clear," I say before I pull myself up and climb through the window, only barely large enough for me to squeeze in. I land as softly as possible on the oak floor behind the desk. I prick my ears, listening for danger. The room is silent, but there is movement outside the door and no immediate threat. I creep towards the door and put my ear to it. One pair of footsteps move away from me, and another just left the building. They shouldn't be a problem, as long as I stay hidden. I take the bronze handle with my right hand, putting pressure on the middle of the door to prevent it from squeaking and open it enough to peek through. The room is filled with old beds and a few rickety pieces of furniture littered with clothes and armor, but no people. Who would ever want to be a guard in this place?

I close the door again. Amelia can only buy us so much time. I have to be quick.

Just then, something catches my eye. Mounted on the wall, is a long, decorated dagger. Its blade shines like it's never been used, and the hilt is covered with fine leather and encrusted with the most beautiful emerald stones I have ever seen. Next thing I know, my fingers are stroking the blade carefully. It would be a shame to just leave it here to gather dust. A blade like this needs to be used, and I just so happen to be in the market. My fingers grip on the hilt and it is removed from its mount. I am amazed at the craftsmanship displayed in the weapon. I give it a twirl and I'm surprised by its lightness and balance. On the spot, I decide that this blade will belong to me. That is before I hear a pair of boots clicking closer, and the door handle being turned.

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A/N

Hello, my dear friends.
No, I am not dead.

Sorry for taking absolutely forever to update. Allot has been happening IRL and I had some stuff I had to work through. But I'm back! Sorry, this chapter isn't the best, I just had to update. And sorry for another cliffhanger. I wanna use it as a motivation for me to keep writing since I can't leave you hanging.

But in all seriousness, thanks for all your patience guys.
*group hug*
Too close? Okay...

Lotsa love
Not dead Katja

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