"Oy, lady. Wake up!"

Emaia snapped out of her slumber and opened her eyes. She quickly discovered that the wagon had stopped and that she was in a dark city; Bart City.

"We are here," The farmer needlessly said.

Emaia quickly sat up and straightened her gown. "Thank you."

"Best find accommodations quick," The farmer advised her. "You don't want to be out alone at night in Bart City."

"Right, thank you," Emaia nodded and crawled off the wagon. She grabbed her satchel and looked around the deserted streets. Bart was definitely not as rich as Rochess, despite the fact that Bart was a mining city. People lived off of what they found in the ever-collapsing mining tunnels. Most people lost more going into those caves than benefiting from its treasures, and the ones that got lucky finding the occasional ruby or emerald... well, let's just say, they never lived to cash it. The competition was rough in Bart, hence the reason that most thugs found their livelihood here.

The farmer sat his horse in motion and disappeared down the dark street. Emaia was left standing in the town square, looking around for something that might be open. All cities had a curfew; After midnight, everything was closed until sunrise. Emaia could tell that it was currently very close to midnight, based on the moons position. She had to move quickly.

She started hastily walking down the street, keeping her eyes open for even the slightest sign of light, but every Inn she walked by was dark and closed and showed no sign of taking late customers. Emaia started to worry; What if she didn't find lodging for the night? She would have to spend the night sleeping on the street.

What mess had she gotten herself into?

Her mind started wondering if she had made the wrong decision leaving Rochess. No sane person would willingly choose to leave a safe future, a wealthy husband and a legacy like the Rochess heritage. Maybe she should just head back first thing tomorrow?

No, She heftily thought. She had committed to this. She didn't want to get married and she definitely didn't want to stay captive in the shadows of a man. This way, she could choose her own future and she wanted that more than anything. Even if it meant sleeping in the streets for a night.

Suddenly, Emaia was brought out of her thoughts when she heard something behind her. She whipped around, but it was too dark to see anything. The houses of Bart were casting shadows dark enough to hide anyone who might be following her. She narrowed her eyes, but decided to keep going. If she just kept moving, maybe she would find someone who she might be able to pay for a place to sleep.

She headed down a new street, turning a corner to a new dark road. Behind her she could sense someone following her, perhaps several people, but she refused to let it scare her and kept going. As she continued down the dark streets with no signs of people in sight, she started to feel a cold-sweat run down her back, though.

What if they attacked her? She hadn't packed any weapons (how foolish of her really) so she could not defend herself. Never mind the fact that she had never held a sword in her life. How was she going to cope if they decided to corner her?

As if fate wanted to punish her for leaving her home, Emaia found herself stumbling into a dead-end alley. She was trapped.

When she heard obvious footsteps approaching, she turned around and faced three dark shadows coming closer.

"Finally, she stopped moving," One of them mumbled. It was a man. It sounded like he wasn't much older than herself.

"I was getting tired of all this running around," Another one added.

"Hear, hear."

Yes, three men. They were heading towards her and she had nowhere to run. She was really in a pickle now.

Emaia backed up to the end of the alley, keeping a few feet's distance to the back wall. She clutched her satchel like her life depended on it which it might actually did. She kept her cool as the men closed in.

"What's a fine woman like you doing here in Bart?" The first man asked. The faint moonlight showed that he was quite bulky. Strong.

"I'm..." Her voice died on her tongue as one of the others stepped forward.

"Look at that. That is a brilliant specimen of woman, right there," He contributed and tilted his head.

Emaia's stomach curled into knots. This was turning out badly. "Stay away from me!" She warned them feistily. She sounded braver than she was.

"Relax, toots, we only want what's in your bag," The first man spoke again.

"Speak for yourself!" The second scoffed.

"Can we hurry this up?" The third man drawled. "I would like to get home, preferably before dawn, and preferably a little richer, too."

"Alright, fine," The second man sighed. "Hand us the bag, lady, and nobody gets hurt."

"No!" Emaia snapped. This bag contained everything she needed to survive. Without her gemstones she wouldn't make it a single day unless she wanted to turn out like these thugs.

"You want to do this the hard way?" The second man spoke and came closer, "Fine, we can do this the hard way."

Emaia barely manage to open her mouth, wanting to let out a scream, before something—someone—came out from the shadows and entered the alley. This fourth man didn't seem to be a part of the group. His body was dressed in black and cloaked in a black cape. Furthermore, his entire face was hidden behind a mask and a hood, at least from what Emaia could make out from the sparse moonlight.

Who was he?

The thugs seemed to wonder the same thing.

"Who the hell are you?" Snapped the second man. He had turned to face him. Emaia now noticed how he subtly drew a small dagger from his belt. She hadn't noticed he had been armed before now.

"To hell with who he is, let's get rid of him!" The third man barked.

All of them seemed to react by this. Emaia watched as the three men walked up to the cloaked figure, all drawing concealed weapons from their belts.

She didn't know who this cloaked man was or why he was interfering, but in any case she was both glad and scared at the same time; Glad that someone cared enough and wanted to save her, but mostly scared that he was outnumbered three to one. This couldn't possibly end well.

"Don't hurt him!" Emaia called out, making all three of the thugs turn to look at her, and in that moment, the cloaked man went into action. He worked so fast that Emaia barely saw what he was doing; One moment he was standing quietly and calmly, surrounded by three armed thugs, the next he had drawn two small, but robust sticks from his cape. He whirled around and started attacking the thugs with flying movements.

The thugs had all missed the first few acts of his attack because they had been facing towards Emaia, but as soon as the cloaked man started going at them, they all jumped into action.

Emaia stifled a scream and stumbled back against the wall as she helplessly watched how the three men were about to kill another man. But, to her surprise, the cloaked man looked to be having the upper hand at all times—avoiding their daggers and punches, only to hit them with his sticks. Why he had chosen to fight their blades with sticks was a puzzle to her. He had to be armed with real weapons too, right?

Moments later, all three of the thugs were unconscious and on the ground. Everything had happened so fast that Emaia had barely been able to tell what was going on. The dim moonlight had only provided her with glimpses of the fight; the rest had blurred into dark, fast-moving shadows. Now, with the cloaked man as the only one standing, he looked towards Emaia.

Her body stiffened as he took a few steps towards her. What was his deal? Had he only attacked the men and saved her so he could take the content of her bag for himself? Or was his agenda much, much darker?

Emaia stumbled back frightened when the cloaked man approached her. He then suddenly stopped up, perhaps noticing her flinch away from him. After all, he had just effortlessly beaten three armed men into the ground with only two sticks. She had the right to feel scared.

For a moment, it seemed that the cloaked man was simply watching her. Emaia stared back at him, too afraid to move. Her voice only returned when she had but one question in her head.

"Who are you?" She croaked.

The cloaked man didn't reply. He suddenly just started searching for something under his cloak which made Emaia involuntarily flinch again.

Was he going to attack her?

But to her surprise, the cloaked man simply pulled out something and tossed it onto the ground, a few feet away from her. Her eyes dropped to the small object and found herself staring at a small dagger, still in it's scabbard.

Why was he giving her that?

She looked up with new questions on her mind, but was shocked when she saw the alley was empty. The three thugs were still very much unconscious, but the cloaked man had disappeared.

Emaia was stunned and started looking around the shadows. "Hello?" She called, hoping he might respond. But nothing. He was gone.

Emaia looked down at the dagger again and slowly moved forward to pick it up. She pulled the little knife out of its leather protection and looked at the beautifully crafted blade. There were no sign of a mark that might reveal where it was forged, only the handle that had a tiny little leaf carved into it. It was amazingly detailed.

Why had the cloaked man given it to her? And why had he saved her? She hadn't even had the chance to express her gratitude.

She looked down the empty street again. She hoped that she might some day see him again and get a chance to say thank you, but until that day, she would have to stay safe. This dagger in her hand would help her do just that. She packed it into her bag and stepped across the unconscious thugs. He had really knocked them out good.

She needed to keep moving. Tonight's events had startled her, but it hadn't made her want to give up and run back home. If anything it had perked her desire to change the world. She needed to find Dashel so she could stop wandering helplessly around, but it would seem that she wouldn't find a place to sleep indoors tonight. So, with a little luck and help from an angel, she found a remote and hidden place to sleep behind a wagon and a few barrels. Here, she could sleep unnoticed by thugs and other people who might want to disturb her.

Funnily enough, she dreamt of a cloaked figure who was shrouded in thick fog. When she called out for him, the fog only got thicker until it was so thick that he completely disappeared. What could that possibly mean?

~*~

The first thing Emaia did after the sun arose was hit the local taverns and start asking about a guy name Dashel. Most of the people she asked simply shrugged their shoulders while others pretended to know him if she in return would give them a little somethin-somethin.' Emaia's persistence never wavered, though. Eventually she knew she would find them. Although Bart was a relatively small city, it had somehow gotten bigger over the years. Houses were build up against houses and small stores had been crammed into every empty nook and corner. Inns after Inns on a row, all of them which claimed they hadn't seen Dashel or anyone who matched his description.

As morning turned to noon and noon turned to evening, Emaia still hadn't found him, nor had she found anyone who had heard about their rebellion. Suddenly the night was upon them and closing hours were just a few short hours away. After a long day, Emaia had to admit that she wouldn't find them today. She decided that it would be best to get herself signed into a room so she would avoid a repetition of last night's unfortunate events.

She stepped into a small Inn called The Brewing Kettle that seemed nice and well-accommodated. The innkeeper was looking through his book when Emaia stepped up to the counter. He looked up when Emaia stopped in front of him. "What can I do for you, toots?"

"Could I get a room for the night, please?" Emaia asked, smiling carefully. Manners never hurt.

"Just for one?" The innkeeper asked with a skeptical brow.

Emaia nodded, and the innkeeper then started going through his book again. "We have a room for 9 shillings a night. And how would you expect to pay?" He grunted, looking at her in disgust. Obviously hosting lone women were not something he approved of.

"How would 2 emeralds sound?" Emaia asked and curled her lip into a smirk. He thought he would have the pleasure of seeing her stutter her way through a plea to stay for the night. Women weren't allowed money, but he hadn't expected her to be carrying gems.

The innkeeper widened his eyes. "Two emeralds? That'll do mighty fine!"

Emaia nodded pleased with herself. "Then find me a key." She was surprised how confident she sounded. This was a side of her she didn't know existed.

Surprising what a little freedom could do to you.

The innkeeper started going through his keys to look for an appropriate room. It was that moment Emaia overheard a couple of men talking, sitting by a table a few feet away.

"... and then he started asking me if I wanted a new future for myself and my future children," A large, bearded man grunted while chugging down a mug of ale. "Imagine my surprise when he tells me that their little group can do just that!"

That was the first word she had of them since she got here. Maybe this pack knew where they were?

"Excuse me?" Emaia carefully said and stepped up to their table. The three other men looked up at her, their eyes blurry from their beverage. "But could you by any chance be talking about the rebellion?"

The bearded man rose a bushy brow. "As a matter of fact, I am! How would a lady like you know about such things?" He questioned and scratched his beard.

Emaia didn't think she needed to tell him about her reasons. "Do you know where they are staying at?"

"Well, the man I talked to—Hanke, his name was—said that they were staying at The Quilted Cow and that I should stop by if I changed my mind," The bearded man hoarsely replied. "What's it to you?"

Emaia broke into a huge smile. "Thank you so much!" She said happily. This was good news. She just had to find The Quilted Cow and then she would find Dashel. "Can you tell me where The Quilted Cow is located?"

"It's all the way across town," The man grunted. "It's in the northern part of the city."

"Thank you!" Emaia breathed and nodded thankfully. "You have been of great help!"

"There we go, here's your key," The innkeeper suddenly spoke and held up a key.

Emaia turned to look at him. "I'm sorry, I won't be needing it after all." She was certain that she could make it across town before closing hours. She knew she would have to hurry, but she could definitely make it.

"But what about my emeralds?" The innkeeper complained and looked saddened by the loss of his promised fortune.

Emaia quickly reached into her bag, ripped two emeralds off from her corset and tossed them on the counter. "For your inconvenience!"

The innkeeper looked gobsmacked as Emaia headed out the door. She knew she could make it, but she had to run most of the way. The Quilted Cow was up north, and even though Bart was small, as previously mentioned, it had gotten bigger somehow. It took her nearly twenty minutes before she reached the far end of the city. By then she was exhausted. She had run most of the way, but now she was almost there. She had no idea where the Inn was at, so she would have to stop and ask for directions.

And just her luck; She noticed an open tavern where a few men were hanging out in front of the bar, chatting lively with each other and drinking ale. She could ask them.

"Excuse me," She asked and walked up to them. They all turned to look at her, suddenly all getting a surprised look on their face. "Can you tell me in which direction The Quilted Cow is?"

One of the men, a black-haired brutish-looking man with muscles as big as a log, crooked his head and offered her a smirk. "Of course, beautiful, anything for a fine lady!"

Emaia felt an uncomfortable tightening in her stomach. Everything he said was nice, yet something about him made her skin crawl. "Uh... thank you. So where is it?"

"Why don't we show you?" The brute-man offered and looked around to his lads. "It's getting pretty late, you don't want to be alone on the street with dangerous men around."

"Uh..." Emaia knew she should decline. "I think I will manage on my own. Just point me in the right direction—"

"Nonsense, we don't mind now, do we, lads?" He barked and turned to his friends. They all smirked and nodded their heads. "It's only a few houses away, we will show you!"

"Only a few houses?" Maybe she could take their company for only a few houses. Worst case scenario, she had her trusty little dagger. "Alright then, lead the way."

Suddenly she was heading down the street with four men she didn't know. She realized she had made a dumb move; They were up to trouble, but her faith in humanity kept her believing that she could make it to The Quilted Cow before they tried something stupid.

But the 'few houses away' description didn't quite seem to hold. After several minutes of getting led by the brute and his friends, she realized they were moving further away from town and into the outer part.

After a couple more seconds, she nervously asked, "Where is it? I think we might be getting lost."

"Oh no, it's right down there," The brute said and pointed down a narrow street. "Just at the end, you can't miss it."

"Oh, uh, thank you," Emaia hesitantly replied. "Then, uh, thank you for showing me, I will be fine the rest of the way."

"No trouble."

Emaia quickly headed down the narrow street, enveloping herself into the darkness. Damn Bart City for not having any street lights. She never thought she would be happy to escape into the darkness, but that guy had given her the creeps. Besides, eventually she would find the Quilted Cow, and she still had some time before closing hour. So what was a little darkness?

But as she kept walking down the narrow street, it only seemed to get darker. The houses were keeping the road ahead covered in darkness, so she could hardly see were she was going. That was, until she reached a sudden dead-end.

She had walked right into a trap.