A driver stood seated on top of his brand-new C.A.R, waiting right outside the high golden fence as he waited for his employer to come out and pay him the hefty amount he'd promised after heeding his call.

One hand on the mechanical levers- four in total, and the other gripping his hat close to his heart as his thick moustache twitching from the cold under the dark grey sky. The first snowstorm had already passed a fortnight ago, and all citizens had run praying to the Helian Temples all around Lowen to ask the divine to spare them from getting buried under a fresh pile of snow.

He'd crooked his nose aside after the well-dressed man had asked him to drop him in front of the Imperial Citadel; nobody who'd rode with him had ever asked such a daring request. And judging by how the guards had immediately opened the gates after catching a glimpse of him made the driver understand that this wasn't the first time he'd been invited there.

Not even time to think about how much to ask for extra compensation as his shadow emerged from the light mist, dark trench-coat floating in the wind as he took large, confident strides towards his own person.

Rapidly approaching his C.A.R the gentleman apologised for the waiting, taking his hat off before bowing in sign of thanks. The driver did the same, only the heavens above knew what this man could do.

That was when the gates opened for a second time, the mist concealing a hooded figure as it swarmed past the guards, throwing at them a simple greeting before stepping outside of the palace. Her hood coming loose as an elegant braid fell over her right shoulder, the silvery colour of her hair shining as if the moon itself had come down to earth to remind them again of her splendour.

The young woman soon approached his client, a feline smile playing on her thin lips before raising her gaze to meet the diver's baffled one.

A beauty in her prime. Nothing like the courtesans that filled the brothels of District Street, or the luckier ones who'd secured themselves a position inside a noble house. Even luckier if they'd succeeded in producing a bastard they knew their lovers would have not thrown out.

Her eyes, the colour of the freezed lakes in winter. Her pale cheeks, candid like fresh that could only be found on the tops of the mountains during Rowlians' cruel winter. She wasn't little in stature as the many female clients he'd fetched around the city, standing a good feet over the average height he was used to.

The woman caught him looking, tilting her head as her feline smile widened slightly. the ends of her mouth curling as her eyes quickly seemed to grow darker- like when the moon overlapped the sun in a mesmerising eclipse, bringing forward the stars locked like painting inside the astral sky.

The gentleman turned around to greet the dame, who scoffing lightly gestured to the driver to open the door of this C.A.R.

"Where to this time, sir?" The diver asked quietly. Stuttering even as he saw the woman climb inside his C.A.R, not even deigning him of a half-glance as she made her gloved hand slip around the gentleman arm, helping her board his C.A.R.

The gentleman halted midway at the driver's question, one foot on the ground, the other one already inside his mechanical carriage. "To the intersection between Merchants Road and Market Place, I'll double the fee if you take us there in less than thirty minutes." He said before closing the door.

"Are you really so fixated on doing it this way?" The driver heard the woman ask, a chill travelled down his spine, cutting it in two at the coldness laced between her words. Nothing even remotely close to her angelic appearance.

"Don't tell me you want to barge in like a bear running after his stolen honey." A daring yet amused chuckle accompanied him inside the mechanical carriage as his partner quickly slapped his hand away from her braid, the sound of her beige-day lace gloves hitting his darker skin clear as a rain stop hitting a lake.

"At least they would drop on their knees pleading for their lives- like fat, juicy pigs sent to the slaughterhouse," she seethed.

"You would hate my homeland then. Our deity is way more equilibrated than the one I found in the Rowlian Empire," the gentleman replied.

The woman confirmed by making her tongue click heavy against her upper palate, sparing her partner no time to beat around the bush.

"Has someone ever told you breaking people isn't the only way to make them talk?" The gentleman asked with a particular calmness before deciding to take off- the less he heard about this matter the higher the probability he would have survived to see a new dawn.

"It isn't yours- can't say the same for me."

"Do I really need to ask how many people you've tried your amazing method on?"

"I doubt you'll find someone to tell you," the car shook as the driver passed over the Bridget Bridge, the cobble rattled the car as they crossed over the end of the High Searis. The azure waters of the High Searis on their left, the deeper waters of the Middle Searis on their right.

"Oh? And pray tell me why exactly; you seem so sure?" Something told the driver that the gentleman already knew the answer to his question.

"The cemetery is right outside The Barracks, three turns left, and you'll find your destination on the right." Was all the appealing dame said, before ending the delightful conversation, a sinister chuckle her last warning before the mechanical carriage went silent.

꧁꧂

Rosalynde had learned many things about the Banker of Lun, about the Gilded Phantom- who loathed the rich and was adored by the poor.

What she hadn't expected on that cloudy day was his ways of leading her around the neighbour of Merchants Road, sliding between wooden stalls filled with fruits so ripe that one wrong touch would have made the pulp break the peel and stain all shirts. There were cloths of all sizes and colours pinned at the edges of the wooden poles with thin iron nails to not damage the goods excessively for the next market day. The sides of the stalls filled with caskets with even more goods.

Rosalynde avoided her fur boot from being touched by an Atrean fruit, quickly ducking down to catch it before it hit the ground.

What she hadn't thought was that because she'd touched the fruit, she now had to buy it. 'Damaged Goods,' was what the merchant had said with a scoff before extending his hand for the adequate compensation.

A half-hearted curse left her lips as she made a copper fall down into the vendor's hand, the palm of his callous hand- rough from working in the fields closed over the money like an ostrich as he gave her a content smile.

She didn't want to attract more attention than it was necessary, especially in a neighbourhood like Merchants Road; too many ears watching their movements, too many eyes hiding behind the stalls eager to germ information to sell at the highest offer possible.

Merchants Road was the neighbour of the social life: masters of craft filled the streets, presenting their works with

It was only after Rosalynde and Grey had escaped the merchants' keen ears that he told her she'd just fallen prey of a well-known scam.

"At least he gave you an Areian Fruit, can't say the man has bad taste." She gave the scammed item a glance.

The plump fruit was nothing Rosalynde had ever seen before- one side had a thick orange peel like a sour orange from the south, the other a thin blue the same colour she found when exploring the back forest of the Imperial Citadel, hunting down blueberries with Pharah in their free time when not in the middle of tedious never-ending lectures.

She tried opening it, but to her surprise both sides of the fruit didn't bulge. She tried again, this time aided by pressing the Areian Fruit against the wall so that small pressure on the thick side would have made the skin rip in half. But again, the fruit didn't bulge, not even a droplet of juice was seen travelling down the wall-

For half-second she thought of taking off her gloves for a better hold, but the sudden repulsion she felt thanks to that thought was enough to dissuade her for good.

"Want help? Grey asked from behind.

"No need." Her pride flared, soaring until it grazed with the aid of the winds, the first clouds hanging in the sky.

"That's not how you open it, Silver." She went to ask what he meant by that, but the banker didn't leave her time to ask before taking the fruit away from her hands. He knocked on it in some places before he hit his mark- a hollow sound reverberated before he gently pushed that precise spot.

The fruit cracked open in two identical halves in one go under the astonished gaze of the fourth Apostle.

"This is how you open an Areian Fruit: which part do you prefer? Sweet or Sour?" he passed her the blue half to take out a small handkerchief from his coat's pocket, cleaning his fingers from the mushy pulp that had escaped the cocoon.

"Sour." She stated, reigning her features into a contained, neutral smile as he passed her the orange half, claiming the blue one for his own.

"Then that should satisfy your highly trained exquisite palate," he said, and without thinking twice he took a rough bite from the pulp.

Rosalynde observed him for a good minute, her pale eyes focusing on the hold he had on the fruit, on how he made his teeth sink before using his free hand to scoop the remnants into his mouth.

Building up what Pharah loved calling a perveance of phantom bravery she took a bite- an explosion of sour came rushing into her mouth, it was as if she'd just taken a sip of lemon juice mixed with the cheapest rum she could find Lowen. The sour quickly overwhelmed her taste buds as she quickly made the pulp run down her throat, instead of leaving it under her tongue to try and tame her wild palate.

"So?" His shadow overlapped hers. His eyes came into view as he bent down to check how she was faring.

"You said it was sour." She spat, cleaning her mouth with her sleeve.

A dark, unyielding chuckle filled with expectancy filled the air, making her shoulder shudder and tense without her mind even realising it. "I did," he replied with his usual nonchalance, coated with that usual confidence of his.

"You didn't tell me it was going to be this sour."

"Should I pick you up and bring you to the nearest healing centre?" He mused, bringing a large mouth of his before exploding with a delicate yet at the same time unrefined laughter.

"Only if you're going to be the one that gets bedridden," she granted him one of her finest smiles, shadows and promises dancing in the air as she vowed to make her words come true.

Grey then took her half of the Areian before taking an enormous bite, licking his fingers slowly, and one by one to clean up the juice that was trying to escape his mouth.

"Would you look at this? The great Rosalynde Steel brought to her knees after tasting a fruit hailing from the Atrean Kingdom." He said after finishing her side of the fruit, his elegant grey eyes roamed around the streets before finding their prey, a small wooden bin close to the centre of the neighbourhood: Market Place.

He then left her side, telling her to stay still as he made his way through the crowd, hands in pockets as he became with the passer-bys eager to strike the best bargain of their lives.

She lost his figure in that dense crowd of Rowlians or whatever land they originally hailed from without even realising it, his dark coat leaving her sight after a cart pulled by two old mules covered his back, hiding him from her and her alone.

Then, her mind came back on a partial detail Grey had said earlier on. She hadn't really bothered it at first, but after some initiation reconsideration she realised she'd been extremely slow at connecting the dots he'd laid out for her.

This wasn't a fruit that could usually be found in a normal vendor's place, it was a highly imported object from overseas, and all the goods from the Atrean Kingdom had never come cheap. Not after the change of crowns that occurred after the assassination of their queen. Leading her eldest son, Holsdor Aterium, to step over and claim the crown for his own.

Relationships had been lost with the new kings' advent to the throne, and the few reports that Rosalynde had struggled to get her hands on were clear on the matter. The wind of war had already begun blowing over the viridian plains full of cattle, and between the oak trunks of the centenary forests that surrounded the main cities of the Atrean Kingdom.

And the fact that such a precious fruit as the Aerian Fruit could be sold at such cheap price could only mean one thing.

Someone had monopolised all Atrean goods in the Rowlian Empire.

The realisation dawned on her like a wave crashing against the rocks in the first lights of the morning, like the early bird song-singer breaking the rosy sky to spread its melody across the land.

If Atrean imported products were so valuable and so rare- how had she bought one for only a single copper? She should have at least given twenty silvers if the past prices hadn't variated.

She let her back hit the wall. Her mind lost in a long train of thought: each wagon filled with a different lead as she tried to untangle the mess that she'd just stumbled upon. The last time she'd checked with the economical files had been quite a long time ago, but for a price to drop that way time couldn't be the only thing that had influenced the market.

Rosalynde raised her gaze towards the vendor, her back leaving the wall as she slowly stalked towards the man, eyes narrow, a contained smile stretched on her face- she could feel her muscles tighten as the winter winds hit her in the face.

The vendor's eyes widened at her sudden return, recognition danced in his dark eyes before shouting at her to leave. 'Scaring my customers!' The man kept shouting at her till her ears started to bleed.

All she did was to bring a smile on her lips and made her curse surge forward- not too much, she didn't want to find herself in an alley straying too far from home in the aftereffects would have hit her.

His knees buckled, then a hand shot out to sustain his head, an agonising rumble left his chest after he unconsciously made one of his elevated caskets fall to the ground. It bumped against it with his large hips, the sound of stray hitting the cobbled street snapped Rosalynde's mind back to the world of living.

"A small question, sir. And hopefully we'll never have to cross paths again," she said.

Pointing at one of the many Areian Fruits eagerly inviting the passing crowd to lean and slip a copper inside the man's hand. "That- when did you start selling Atrean goods at such low cost," she made the curse grant him rest, helping him relax his vocal cords before stuttering out a bunch of words.

"A few months ago, we don't know who-" but Rosalynde got closer, quickly grabbing his exposed collar before dragging him for a few metres, shoving him in a side-way alley.

The vendor had a gun at his neck before he could even realise what exactly had happened.

"You know who it was. And you're gonna tell me," at that moment she sincerely wished Grey was beside her, telling her if the man had been playing tricks or if he'd been actually trying to spare his life.

If it were in any different situation she would have brought him back and nicely asked him in an underground cell under the Imperial Citadel, but too many people were roaming the streets at that hour of the morning, and market days were famous for entrapping all those who entered inside Market Place until the vendors retired for the night.

"All that the Merchant Federation knows is that someone has being buying in large quantities the Atrean goods even before they touch land," he stammered quite a few times with his tongue, the words effortlessly rolling out only after she pressed a knee against his manhood, keeping her prized gun pressed against the artery.

She had no intention to shoot him there, too many people, too many keen and unaware eyes.

It wasn't like District Street – where paying the highest prize would grant you immunity, here people didn't think of going outside without taking into account the possibility of not coming home.

"You do not have a name for me?" She asked, smiling sweetly at his last reaction.

He shook his head. His hazel locks denying everything as small lines of water started stretching along his face. Crying would have brought him nothing except angst against his person.

But again- he had no idea that's how things worked.

"Unless you give me something. I'm afraid I can't let you walk away like this," her smile curled in a satisfied grin, her slim cheeks refracting the light as a single ray of sun penetrated the thick layer of clouds hovering over the capital.

"We never saw his face! It was always another man that came in his stead to conclude the transactions before the goods hit land!" She let her throat go dry, a dreadful realisation seeping deep into her mind as she completely pressed him against the soft-being wall.

Someone who'd never show his face for official affairs- someone who always had his assistant go in his stead.

She knew that someone.

But she

The vendor didn't realise she'd let go of him until she saw him scramble away, devoured by the same crowd she'd done everything to avoid.

She stood there, still as a rock battling against a hurricane on top of a mountain, struggling to keep her mind in check while her nails dag against the fabric of her gloves. Grey had brought her there for a reason, she knew that there had been something- but this? This was a matter that she could have never guessed with her illustrious, crafty wit alone.

Rosalynde didn't even bother looking at Grey as he crept in the alley, the only sound announcing his arrival was the sound of his boots moving the snow away from his path. His breaths silent and calculated, there was a small pause before she heard him settle behind her on the other side of the wall, And there he laid, silent as a vulture as she felt his eyes roaming her back, a chain of goosebumps tickling her warm arms. She knew what he was waiting for- and yet she didn't give him that satisfaction until the next chiming from Daunting Cathedral was heard, announcing the new hour.

"You're planning to bring economic inflation that will bring the Atrean Kingdom to its knees."

It sounded like a prophecy coming out of a madwoman, but his reputation had always preceded his steps: Just because he didn't act that way with her didn't mean he'd change his antics since joining the Apostles.

He still was- and always had been- the Gilded Phantom.

"It took you more than I initially thought," that statement made her turn around, her eyes filled with the shadows of the ghosts of the people she'd killed.

She kept her surprise cage at his appearance. Suppressing the urgent need of taking beating him into obedience like she usually did with those who went against the Crown. So many had lost their lives after Haywire received the order from Lord Regulus- at times from the Empress herself- and then proceeded into throwing the list of traitors at her feet.

"Did you know that the Areian Fruit is one of the most familiar delicacies my homeland has to offer?" He asked. His head rolled upwards, making his dark locks hit the wall behind, a light chuckle came out of him while Rosalynde did nothing more than to look at him.

When she said nothing in reply, he continued. "It's used during birthdays. The familiars of the celebrated pick a side not knowing what he'll eat: if the sweet or the sour side. I remember drinking mugs over mugs of honey-milk after tasting the sour part my first time. It happened on my seventh birthday, my brother chose for me that day."

She saw his eyes close for half-second. A shaky sigh left his body as he reminisced the event from that day, trapped in a cage of threads that made up his memory.

"You said something on the day you joined the Apostles," she started, taking her first steps towards his figure.

He then opened his eyes again, those mesmerising grey eyes settling on her sharp features. He didn't move a single muscle as he let her get close. She looked at him- really looked at him for the first time probably since their first meeting.

She took in every detail: every rebel lock that stubbornly loved escaping the vain efforts of being combed with his hands, every shade his captivating eyes had to offer, the two mole she'd just spotted- one under his chin and the other under his right ear.

Rosalynde slowly reached her hand out, her gloves enslaved in a turbulent frenzy before going to graze his smooth cheek.

Her hand stopped there, a divine force keeping the thin glove in place.

"What do you want?" She asked, her throat tightening, her toes curling upwards as she kept her eyes locked on his.

"Revenge," she knew that already. Just like she knew that wasn't the only thing he was desiring at that moment, something they both were trying to kill and drown in a corner of their minds.

Not that she was any different from him.

"Apart from that," she said, taken aback from the urgency in her voice.

That was when he moved his head to the right, smooth lips skimming her gloved hand. She saw from the corner of her eyes his hand crawled up, claiming her hand for himself as he laid a gentle kiss on her palm before losing himself against her touch.

His gaze lowered. And for a heartbeat ,Rosalynde was sure she'd seen a sea of stars sailing in the immensity of his soul.

"You already know the answer to that question."