Among derelict buildings, far on the edge of town, stood one big precarious house. The gable seemed to loosely stand upon itself, its masonry glinting from the first few rays of the morning sun. Rona was just finishing buckling her boots. She didn't need to look as she guided the buckles, her fingers moving by memory; she fastened a belt fully stocked with flares. Rona fitted on a thick black leather strap across her chest and double checked the thin silver daggers contained within. When leaving, in one fluid motion she dons a long black hooded jacket and bag. She travels light and leaves nothing behind.

  As Rona stepped out onto the cobbled street, the morning air was mild with a pale overcast sky. Each step sent a faint echo bouncing between what was left of the tall, weathered buildings that lined the wide roads. Heading back for civilisation, Rona scanned the passing assorted buildings for any changes. Behind them, more buildings, scorched black and probably about a century old. Changes in these surroundings would be easy enough for her to notice; all the dirt, soot or grime has long since stayed settled. The old dilapidated shops are still abandoned, but not off limits.

  When nearing further towards town, the dusty old roads start to get narrower, the shadows of buildings become shorter, and the cobbled stones seem to become more polished. The streets begin to dimly hum with waking life, with the small houses crowded together and boarded up windows by it’s wary occupants.

  There is a dull rhythmic hard knocking, and now Rona knows where to head towards. Sure enough, the sound of a crowd is building up. As she draws closer, the sound gains more mass. It is not an angry mob, but its overall clamour surges in urgency. In a fairly crowded alleyway there, she had found her next payload, and it only took her the journey in.

  A stalwart-looking city official hammered in the final nail when Rona had rounded the corner. The crowd began to clamber towards the new big wooden notice board, obscuring its view, but Rona did not need to look. Despite there being a lot of different minds struggling over each other, this crowd was clearly alarmed with trepidation.

  By the main entrance to this building, there's another smaller crowd, about a dozen or so that are making the most racket. It was reaching out, arms stretched, and with harrowed, exasperated faces held off against a stoic wall of guards. Although Rona could not distinguish any one of these particular voices, she knew all too well the plight of these sorry beggars. From what she would guess, these people used to live here and are now lucky enough to have anything besides the clothes on their backs. They cannot be helped, even for the right coin, because more unfortunately, they are just too desperate. Desperate customers make critical mistakes. Even when half of the time they have enough coin, they could talk too much or interfere from panic and not only cost Rona with a botched job but also land her in heaps of trouble.

  She has her sights set on this grim building, and from experience, there is often a nook of invaluable intel nearby. Within Rona′s purview and next to the rabble is a thick, worn oak door that she slinks away through.

  Inside, Rona casts her eyes over this modest establishment, and sure enough, she has found her treasure trove. The place is spitting sawdust, but it has its certain charms, such as the calm, fragrant lacquer and woody smell. Rona strolled over to the counter, where a burly man imperceptibly nodded at her.

  “Whenever you′re ready, please bring me over a bottle of red with two cups,” she laid out some coins, “This should cover it.”

  The burly man gave a proper look at Rona this time and gave an expression that one would have if a vulture landed too soon before it′s next meal was ready. Lacking any reaction, Rona turned away and headed towards a frayed dark wooden booth at the other end of the room. Quite possibly, the benches were salvaged pews.

  Unaware of his surroundings, a bookish fellow sat there poring through a couple of heaps of old papers. Brows furrowed, he is lost in a trance of thought. Not even out of the corner of his eyes does he notice Rona looming over to him.

  “How fortunate that we have a delegation stationed here on such short notice. I'm glad that place is already being handled with such care by The Order. They are going homeless after all.” Said Rona in a concerned tone, approaching his bench.

  Alas, she was just met with a dry cough and contempt. It was the kind of cough you get when being around too many dusty books all the time. After an awkward pause, Rona tries again, audibly louder, “Mind me asking, SIR, what brings you ‘ere?”

  “Well, it was actually by chance that I was passing in the area early this morning, but unfortunately, it will still be quite some time before any of The Last Guard get here,” he said nonchalantly, whilst his eyes fixated on a list.

  “It's okay, a prolonged delay is always to be expected. Most places are lucky to be seen at all, let alone one started so soon like this. Mind if I join you? I may be of some use to you yet.”

  “Oh, I see…” He let out another wheezy cough. Then, breaks focus to glance at her, “very well then.” It was said indifferently, but at least without any disdain. As she sat down opposite him, there were two hollow knocks of wooden wine cups being set upon the table, followed by a thump of a wine bottle brought by the burly man. “Are you quite sure it's necessary to be drinking this early in the day?”

  “What I don't find necessary is that all this terrible business need always be so morose. Enjoy your short spell in the sun, for you spend a long time dead” On that note, she poured them both the wine. “To add to the silver lining of you being early, we may make the most of this. I suspect it may be in your best interest to maintain a head start and get to cataloguing any old holy relics or the likes.”

  “I see you've already gathered that the boarded-up bunkhouse across the street used to be an abbey. Perhaps there may be a need for your services to procure some select items, be that at your own peril, of course.” The scholar minister turned back over the pages for another review. “We often come across other new, inexplicable occurrences, but this particular one comes especially with unprecedented danger. I could easily be sending you to your death.”

  “I believe you have now given me sufficient enough warning, but I don't just do this for a living. I'm one of the best there is. Even with twice the guards posted there, I would slip around them without them batting an eye. And whatever manner of horror may lie in wait for me there, I ain't afraid,” she fixed a firm stare on him in this brief pause.

  “Right, well, I suspect you will have your work cut out for you! Out of sixty lodgers, three died an instan,t gruesome death, nine were gravely injured and may still be fighting for their lives. One person is missing entirely; the few key witnesses unscathed are still catatonic. Half of them have sustained injury, and one was even trampled to death in blind panic. Many of the reports either don′t match nor make much sense. It’s almost as if something sinister has etched into its very foundations, unravelling reality.” He reached out for the wine cup, which was very apparent to steady his nerves.

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  “The blueprints suggest about an extra few rooms sealed off before the renovations. In our archives, I found this journal of one of its previous occupants, there is mention of a cellar that was kept hidden from most of their congregation and The Order alike. It is likely because they wanted to make their own alcohol on the sly and keep it all for themselves. Salvage any scriptures, scrolls, manuscripts or anything that might have survived along with any big thick books. A bonus would be maybe finding an 80 year old bottle of red wine. This just so happens to be one of the oldest buildings left in town so if there's still anything of worth to find here, this would be the place.”

  They carried on talking for the rest of the morning about any more possible finds, the layout of the building and any minor details that could prove useful when inside. By the time the wine was finished, Rona was on her way.

  She had only been around this town for about a month and already had to move her abode three times. As a failsafe, there are secret stashes around town, so Rona already had all the gear needed for the job nearby. There was still quite some time to kill as naturally, she would need the cover of the night, a few days from now.

  In a quiet corner of town, Rona has a small stash of swag left, and well, she may as well finish selling the last of it off. During her time here in the town, White Gate, she had scoured precariously through its surrounding ruins and rat-infested hovels. Most places had been picked clean, but Rona knew where its true hidden gems would be stashed. Whether it′s under a floorboard or tucked away in a cranny around a fireplace, no family heirloom stayed lost.

  There was a lovely little trinket box with fine jewellery that she flogged all separately already. This time, however, she has a bundle of silverware to offload at the Grand Bazaar. She wasn't selling glass as diamonds lately, as silver is highly sought after, but she couldn't exactly go back to any stalls she previously sold at.

  Rona found a stall at the edge of the bazaar that had no customers. Then. She made quite an awkward spectacle of fumbling her black velvet bag containing the silverware onto the counter, all the while maintaining an apologetic face fixed on the merchant. The silver landed with an embarrassingly loud clatter. At the same time, she clumsily spilt a good few coins, pretending to be completely oblivious. As if an old, murky yellow lantern had just been lit, the merchant smiled towards her warmly.

  “How much could you give me for these then?” she inquired.

  “Well, how much do you want for it?” the merchant said flatly as he briefly rummaged through it.

  “Oh, I dunno. Three hundred?”

  “You can never have enough silver, but that's starting too high. How about one fifty?”

  “Two fifty,” she simply retorted.

  “One seventy-five,” his eyes darted anxiously to and from the coins next to the velvet bag.

  “You should know this is quality silver. Two hundred. Final Offer.”

  He seemed reluctant but still tried hastily to usher Rona onwards. He thrusted a fat sack of coin in her hands. She then added, “Oh, sorry, how clumsy of me! I′m always losing money, me.”

  Rona quickly gathered up the coins she had spilt next to the bag before her swift departure. There was one hundred in coins, to be precise, which helped close the deal much quicker and easier. If it had been a more honest man, then he would′ve just told her that she had dropped the coin, but for most folks nowadays, it was a safe bet that he wouldn't do that.

  Next, it was off to the farmer′s market to gather up a feast. Rona has a massive appetite but only eats every second day. Today is one of her luckier days; she will definitely be gorging to her heart's content. After all, she had landed one of the more ideal jobs in the field, and eating is one of the best ways to celebrate, as it is the greatest reminder that one is still alive.

  Rona′s heart leapt when her eyes clapped on a golden glowing rotisserie chicken twirling like the belle of the ball! In a place such as this, it's once in a blue moon that anyone would sell fresh enough poultry such as this.

  It was still worth the heated auction and the pretty penny. When Rona hauled the chicken with all its trimmings away, she was the envy of nearly all the market. It was often easier and safer keeping a low profile, but Rona didn′t mind splurging out because it would be very likely that she′ll be leaving town soon enough anyways.

  Not too far, there is a particularly interesting mess hall where mostly the night guards eat before starting their shift. Rona picked out a prime spot to be within earshot of most of the tables but easily missed by any passing gawpers. She carefully laid out her banquet and began slowly tucking in. Scanning through the chatter, she tuned into one small group of guards when one of them started speaking the key phrase. “Have you heard…”

  “…There′s The Last Guard only a few towns away now. If we're lucky, it won't be too long before they can help here,” said the slimmer night guard.

  “Don′t get your hopes up too much, you know what they're like. There’s many other places closer that have been waiting longer than this place,” replied a stout guard.

  Then another guard added, “Besides, several of them died recently. That′s what I just found out when I was posted at Stapleton the day before.”

  This guard was burly and bearded; it seems as though there is some resemblance to the bar man that she believed was the innkeeper.

  Another voice coming from a guard Rona couldn't see chimed in, “Poor bastards are always dropping like flies. As revered as they may be, no folk old enough would ever envy them.”

  Before, Rona had some ideas as to where to next head out for possible job leads, but this seemed more promising. Perhaps Stapleton or one of its neighbours would present more ripe opportunities. Not exactly easy pickings being around the peripherals of The Last Guard, more risk and smaller windows in terms of good timing.

  The guards she had been listening to were now talking about extra shifts and relocations. What now caught her attention was a mid ranking officer who had joined a couple of other guards nearby. The officer carries herself well and seems nice, approachable even.

  “What’s the word from above, Jess?” asked the portly guard sitting at her table.

  “The Order has been given the bunkhouse higher priority. They’ve even sent word for one of their best to come down, but they didn’t say who yet-just that they’ll be arriving any day now.”

  “Blimey, it’s all been happening so fast. It’s a godsend, really, but is it not a bit unsettling how quickly they’re acting on this? I mean, some places are on around a 3-year waiting list,” said a rather ordinary guard.

  “Lest you forget, there was a town just like this one that was lost last Autumn! Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, lad,” exclaimed the portly guard. “Anyway, do you have some idea of who they’re sending?”

  “If I had to guess, Marquis Armen. He’s probably the closest and last I heard, he had just managed to reclaim Donnel’s Cathedral. It was an astounding but brutal feat, I’m sure you know,” said the one known as Jess.

  “Finally, Donnel can begin to become a city once more, no more downsizing for them, hopefully!” cheered the average-looking guard.

  Satisfied with the valuable intel she has syphoned off, Rona headed off at a steely pace, throwing away the polished remains of her feast. It is a considerably tighter deadline than she had originally thought, but all that means is that her plans are starting sooner. Get in. Use them magpie charms. Get out before they make a mess of the place.

  The last rays from the fading dusk inexorably regress into the looming evening. Rona begins her ritual of meticulous preparations as White Gate recedes into the comfort of its own homes.