Lily entered the guild tavern with her new assignment in hand, expecting to find Captain Servis. He was almost always there in the mornings. Sure enough, he was at his usual table.
At the center of the noise, he stood. Broad and impossible to miss. A mug hung from one hand, untouched. His laugh boomed through the hall, shaking the rafters. He clapped a soldier on the back, hard enough to send him stumbling. When he finally noticed Lily, his grin widened beneath his unruly beard.
“Ah, the Holloway lass! So they’ve sent you to me, have they? Good! About bloody time. My squad’s drowning in work, and half my men are running double shifts.” He swiped aside the parchment she held with his thick hand. “Don’t need to see it. I know the stamp well enough. You’re mine now.”
“Temporarily, Captain,” Lily replied.
He let out a loud laugh that bounced off the rafters. “Aye, aye, you’ll be back with that stiff-backed Barnes soon enough. But while you’re here, lass, you’ll carry your share with us.” His smile dimmed into something serious. “I heard about the foothills. One marrow-hound, was it? Bah. Whoever filed that report ought to be strung up. It could be poor scouting, or worse. Either way, don’t dwell on it. Stay alert.”
He scratched his beard and thumped her shoulder with a heavy hand. “Still, you’re standing here, and that’s what matters. Don’t let it sour you. A fighter who broods on death too long forgets how to fight for life.”
Then he turned, bellowing for his men. Weathered, capable soldiers gathered, far less rowdy than George himself. He spread his arms wide. “This is Lily Holloway. Probationer or not, she fought at Darian’s side and lived to tell the tale. Treat her as one of our own.”
The squad greeted her with nods and curiosity, but no one asked questions, seamlessly accepting her among them.
George slapped a thick stack of contracts onto the table, nearly spilling his mug. “Five escort jobs from the docks today. Docks are full, streets are crawling, and merchants are screaming for guards. So—” he jabbed a stubby finger at each squad member in turn. “—iron to the blacksmiths, spices to the southern market, bolts of silk to the merchant square, ale casks for the taverns, and… a jewel delivery to the Aurastone Atelier.”
He turned to Lily. “That last one’s yours. An easy one,” he grinned. “House Deraine’s jewel shipment, bound for their shop in the city. Low risk, nothing but a velvet box and a nervous handmaiden to watch over. You’ll manage fine, Holloway. Report back when it’s done. We have a caravan run this evening.”
Lily offered a brief nod. “Understood.”
Then he clapped his hands once. “Right, lads and lasses! To the docks with you, before the merchants start crying like babies. Move!”
The squad dispersed with their assigned tasks. Lily tightened the strap of her satchel and headed toward the sunlit doors, George’s voice trailing after her across the hall. “Don’t lose the jewels, Holloway! If you do, you’ll owe me a round of ale for every gem gone!” His laughter echoed behind her as she exited.
As the Guild Tavern cleared, Lily glanced at the slip George had given her, a modest lockbox delivery, yet enough to test her spirit in Solmyra.
...
The bright midday sun filtered through a light haze over Solmyra’s docks, casting shimmering patterns on piers and ships. The salt air was sharp. It carried gull cries and the slap of waves against hulls. Lily’s boots clicked on the weathered planks as she walked toward the warehouse where the cargo had just come in.
A young woman stood clutching a twelve-inch, velvet-lined lockbox. It was sealed with wax and stamped with the crest of House Deraine. She held it tightly against her. Brown curls spilled from beneath her cloak, pinned back by a delicate silver hairpin that glinted faintly in the sun. Lily paused when she saw it. She knew that pin. The same girl she’d seen at Juliene’s stall. Her hand sliding so easily into his.
Lily felt that familiar ache resurface, but she pushed it aside, her jaw taut as she buried it deeper. She moved forward, extending the folded slip marked with the guild’s seal. “Excuse me. Are you the one I’m meant to escort today?”
The girl turned, her features brightening with surprise and relief. “Yes, that’s me.” She offered a nervous grin. “I am expecting an escort.”
“Lily Holloway,” she introduced herself. “The guild sent me to see you safely through.”
The girl studied her intently, then nodded. “Marisse. I didn’t expect to meet you here especially not on this job.”
“You know me?”
“I think we’ve already met at Juliene’s stall.” Her tone was sweet, but with a trace of bite. “Juliene talks about you, says you’re strong and brave. Not many earn that kind of praise.”
Lily maintained a calm expression, though her shoulders tensed at the words. “Yes… I recall. But I’m here for the job. Let’s just stay with that.”
Marisse tilted her head. “It’s good to meet you properly, Lily.”
“Likewise,” she replied, brief but courteous. “Shall we get going?”
They walked through the city's busy streets, Marisse holding the box close. She began to talk, to break the silence. “I’ve worked for Lady Aurelia of House Deraine for years now. She owns The Aurastone Atelier, a well-known jeweler in Solmyra, known for rare, beautiful pieces like these gemstones,” she explained, pointing to the box. “They took six months to get here from the distant northeastern empire of Jinhai. Sky opals, sunstones, deep sapphires, quite the treasure.”
Lily looked down at the lockbox. “Sounds like precious cargo.”
Marisse stared at Lily before she shifted her attention to the road ahead. “Lady Aurelia traveled widely with her husband before settling here. I came with them to help run the shop. I first met Juliene about five years ago when he started delivering fruits to the atelier. He was kind. Hardworking. The sort of person you could rely on.” She made a wistful curve of her lips. “We became good friends.” Her words thinned, almost bitter. “You’re close with Juliene, aren’t you?”
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Lily kept her eyes on the street ahead, though her grip tightened on her satchel. “Juliene and I knew each other as children, before I left Heliosa. We only reconnected recently, after all these years apart.”
Marisse’s hopeful look wavered. She glanced down at the strap of the lockbox in her grasp. Her fingers tangled together, the box hugging tight to her ribs as if it were armor. “Before you came back, Juliene and I were close. Closer than just friends, maybe. Sometimes I thought he felt the same.” The bitterness creeping into her voice stole the softness.
Lily raised her chin slightly, smoothing her expression. She had no right to Juliene, not now, maybe not ever. If his heart belonged to someone else, she wouldn’t get in the way. She’d been hurt before, and she had no desire to feel that pain again.
“When I heard that you had returned, I was… glad for him. I wanted him to be happy. But the truth is…” Marisse hesitated, biting her lip. “When you showed up, everything changed. His attention—his smiles—they weren’t the same anymore. I felt pushed aside.” Her eyes flashed with frustration. “I admit it. Sometimes I wished you had never come back. I wanted things to stay the way they were… just me and him.” She looked down at her hands, then back at Lily with a mixture of apology and envy. “The last time I saw you two, at the market… the way he looked at you, it wasn’t the same as when he looked at me. I felt jealous—envious, even. I caught myself wishing I were you instead.”
The confession hung heavy in the air between them.
Lily regarded Marisse in silence, unsure what to say. A part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t care at all, but she forced herself to say something to ease the tension between them. “Juliene and I—we’re just friends. Maybe you overestimated how close we really are.”
Marisse’s hopeful expression searched Lily’s face, looking for something to hold on to.
“If you like him,” Lily remarked evenly, “then go after him. He’s old enough to choose for himself, and I won’t stand in your way.” A brief pause before she added, “It’s your choice, Marisse. What you do with your heart isn’t mine to decide.”
Marisse’s face relaxed, admiration and relief mingling. “You’re kinder than me, Lily. I know my own faults—I can be jealous, petty, all that. But you… You’re better. I wish I could be like that.”
Lily managed a slight, reassuring smile, though a trace of gloom in her expression.
Marisse nodded, determination in her eyes. “I’ll do what I can. And if he doesn’t feel the same way, I’ll accept it.”
Their footsteps took them into the narrow side of Stonecutter’s Alley. The afternoon was quiet. Suddenly, a wooden crate tumbled from a passing cart and crashed onto the cobblestones with a sharp crack.
Lily spotted movement right away. A man pretending to be a porter stepped out, blocking their path with a sly smirk.
Two more figures slipped behind him, eyes glinting with cold intent beneath their hoods.
“Marisse, clutch the box tightly and move back against the wall, now!”
She obeyed her, pressing herself against the rough stone wall, heart pounding.
A man appeared behind them, snarling with a knife in his hand. “Hand it over. Now. Or I’ll end you right here.”
Marisse’s breath hitched, her fingers trembling on the box’s edge. For a terrifying moment, it seemed she might give in.
But before the man could react, Lily was there, as fast as a striking serpent. She moved without hesitation. A sharp jab to the first attacker’s ribs sent him stumbling backward, gasping. Before the second could blink, she grabbed his collar, twisted, and slammed him hard against the stone wall. He choked out a grunt as the impact knocked the breath from his lungs.
The first man tried to recover, but Lily was quicker. She seized a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back, and slammed him to the stones. The thud echoed along the narrow alley. The others froze, boots scuffing. One stepped back, his stare wide. No one moved forward.
Lily straightened with controlled breath and met their eyes full of warning. “If you dare to hurt or even touch this woman, I’ll hunt all of you and make sure you won’t live to see tomorrow.” Her threatening warning sent shivers down the attackers’ spines. Without another word, they hurried off, dragging their unconscious companions with them.
Marisse gasped, still trembling but safe.
Lily turned to her and held out a hand. “Are you alright?”
Marisse swallowed hard, took Lily’s hand, and stood from her crouch. “Thank you. You’re… stronger than you look. I didn’t expect that.”
Lily gave a tired shrug, wiping sweat from her brow. “Size doesn’t always win. No one’s getting through me to you.”
Marisse’s expression shone with newfound respect. “I see now why Juliene likes you.”
The words brought up feelings Lily wished to ignore. She shook her head, a wry smile hiding the knot in her stomach. “Like I said, we’re just friends.”
A relieved laugh escaped Marisse. “You know, I’m as stubborn as a mule. I’ll give my best shot, but I won’t play dirty, I promise. May the best heart win, right?"
Lily only smiled, saying nothing, as she realized Marisse would be a tough rival for Juliene’s heart.
They moved onward, arriving at the elegant fa?ade of The Aurastone Atelier, where the jewelers greeted them warmly, admiring the unbroken seal on the lockbox.
Marisse signed the slip contract carefully and handed it back to Lily with her reward. Just as she turned to leave, Marisse’s voice stopped her. “Lily, thank you for saving my life. And I apologize if I was rude or cold earlier. I was just… expressing how I felt.”
Lily glanced back, a rare, gentle smile softening her face. “I don’t mind. It’s better to be honest. You have courage, Marisse.” With a final nod, she turned from the atelier door. The sunlight warmed her shoulders as she walked, and though she still felt heavy, she let herself move a little lighter, choosing not to think too much about it.
...
Evening came, and there was another task. George had already spoken of the caravan escort.
The wagons rattled out of Solmyra’s northern gate, wheels groaning under the weight of sealed crates. The scent of Mt. Cyran’s herbs drifted from the seams, sharp and bitter, with a sweet undertone that clung to the air. Merry’s hooves struck a steady rhythm on the road as Lily rode alongside, watching the ridges darken against the fading light.
“Two wagons. Crates sealed. Must be delivered to the Royal Alchemist—as always. Our job’s simple: guard them to the gates, no detours,” George announced.
Lily nodded distantly, but her mind wandered elsewhere. Marisse’s words still reverberated: Before you returned, Juliene and I were close… when you showed up, everything changed. Relief tangled with guilt, envy, and something she loathed admitting. She repeated to herself that she and Juliene were only friends, but the ache persisted nonetheless. Why did she always end up competing for scraps of affection? Was it easier to hide her feelings than risk another disappointment? Marisse spoke from her heart. And I? I conceal mine. Perhaps that makes me a coward.
“Holloway!” George called her out. “You’re drifting. What’s in your head?”
“Nothing, Captain,” she said quickly, sitting straighter. “I’m focused.”
“Keep it that way. These herbs are worth more than coin, the whole city depends on them… Easy work, but we don’t relax until the crates are in the alchemist’s hands,” he warned.
The caravan pushed on.
Hours later, shadows appeared in their way. six men crested the ridge in Solmyra’s colors. The leader raised a hand. “Halt!”
George held back his horse. “State your business.”
“The delivery has changed,” the guard said. “New orders. The herbs are to be rerouted.”
From behind him, a cloaked figure appeared. His walk was confident and measured, not the uncertain shuffle of a boy, but the purposeful step of a man. His hood was pulled low, but as he lifted his chin, the lantern light caught a clean face and sharp, watchful eyes. He seemed about Lily’s age, yet there was calm authority in the way he carried himself.
“I am an apprentice to the Royal Alchemist.” He opened his cloak to show a uniform bearing the alchemist’s sigil. In his hand, he held a parchment stamped with the royal seal, freshly pressed, ink unblurred. “The orders come directly from him. These herbs must be taken to a holding site for immediate processing. I’ll guide you there.”
George took in every detail. “Strange. In a decade of this work, the palace doors always opened straight to us. Why change now?”
The apprentice’s voice carried no stammer, no doubt. “Because this year’s harvest is more volatile than past years. Mishandling could ruin months of work. The alchemist gave no margin for error. This is the safest path,” he explained.
There was something in his eyes, almost like he was planning something that made Lily suspicious. This was no nervous helper. His words were too careful, his confidence never shaken.
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