Ambika could feel the icy coldness permeating her fingers despite her arms being fully gloved, cursing the need to sacrifice warmth for some degree of mobility in her choice of wear. She'd made sure to plot her trip to Frost Gale during the warmest time of the year, but even then it was unbearably cold for an old, lone traveller like her. The worst thing she could possibly do now was to turn back, however, given that she's already spent entire days inching her way through. Besides, her destination was already well in sight - The Pale City.

Passing through the standard security checks without issue, Ambika quickly set upon finding a tavern to warm herself up, preferably one with an honest reputation to avoid unnecessary trouble. So when she found a bustling but not overly-crowded tavern that was hosting an eating contest, she decided that was probably the best choice she could find and made her way there.

Many eyes were on Ambika the instant she opened the double doors and walked in - she was clearly a foreigner with her dark brown skin and her style of fashion, Being perfectly aware of this fact, she walked to an empty table and placed her instrument case atop said table, as though signaling she's ready to regale the patrons with a tune or two if they were so inclined. And sure enough, someone took the bait.

"Hello there, esteemed bard. Might you be so kind as to play us a few tunes?" A Dark Elf patron walked up to Ambika, unbridled expectation welling in her eyes. "I'm sure you must've had quite the journey here. What do you say to some nice warm food and a couple of drinks?"

This is a shrewd one. Declaring loud and proud and leaving no room for negotiation without making Ambika seem overtly unreasonable. She could've cashed in on her grandma card to argue further, but the cold was getting to her and she certainly could not afford to risk falling sick, so she replied, "I'll begin after a glass of mulled wine."

"A wise choice, my friend," the Dark Elf patron then signaled one of the bartenders. "You heard her! One glass of mulled wine!"

Surrounding chatter indicated this was normal behaviour on the part of this Dark Elf patron, and the establishment generally lets her be since she's footing the bill anyway and everyone else gets added value out of it for free.

Having warmed up enough following the nice, hot glass of mulled wine, Ambika took out her lute and began strumming away, starting with a lively tune popular in the Zeinav Desert. 

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Mouth Full
Participants: Two or more
Location: Anywhere
Post Requirements: 5 posts per person, 200 words per post
Reward: +1 Renown
Description: While Sol city houses the biggest party of the summer, every other village in the realm celebrates their own, throwing smaller festivals for those who can't make it to the capitol. A mainstay activity at these festivals is always the eating contest; multiple competitions where contestants need to eat all of the food in the fastest amount of time. Participate in one of these eating contests or be involved in some kind of way, but keep an eye out for any disruptions that may try to ruin the event!

Music had always been more than just sound to Eva; it was a tether to something softer within her, something unguarded. The stories of bards tales spoke of lives lived, battles fought, and moments stolen. They offered a glimpse into what could have been, or perhaps, what might still be.

Despite her hardened exterior, Eva was a dreamer, and music had always been the clearest path to those elusive dreams.

As the faint strains of the unfamiliar sounding instrument drifted through the air, pulling her attention from the noisy bustle of the festival, Eva felt that familiar pull. Without really thinking, she found herself moving toward the sound, drawn in by the promise of a momentary escape from the noise and chaos around her.

The narrow street that led Eva to the tavern was a hidden refuge, so shadowed that most people passed by without even noticing its existence. The darkness here was a comfort to her, feeling like she could blend in and hide away from the bustling city, an annual contrast to its usual silence unless you were confined within four walls and a blazing fireplace.

After a few turns, she slipped into the tavern unnoticed, her instincts guiding her to the shadows in the farthest corner. She wasn’t here to be seen or to spend what little coin she had—no, she was here to feel and enjoy the little gifts of life she hardly found. The music was a balm, soothing the rough edges that the world had carved into her, and for a moment, she let herself be taken by it. It spoke of a world she was not familiar with, not a melody native to her home, a traveller then. From her vantage point, she watched as the bard--a woman with clothes that spoke of foreign places--commanded the room with her instrument, backing Eva's initial assumption.

Her eyes flitted to the silent commotion centre of the room, the patron manoeuvring and commanding in silence to where every table should be set, an eating contest preparation underway. Noting the growing excitement as contestants prepared to gorge themselves for the entertainment of the crowd, she squinted her eyes as a feast was beginning to be settled on the table.

It was a distraction, one she could use to her advantage. Music and entertainment? If she believed in luck, she'd think it was on her side. With everyone's attention fixed on the spectacle, she could slip into the kitchen and take what she needed. Hoarding food for later was a practical decision, one born of experience and necessity. In a world where survival often meant taking what wasn’t freely given, she had learned to turn distractions into opportunities.

The trick to it was patience, a skill Eva had honed in her few but hard-earned years. Rushing would only draw attention, and in a place like this, where strangers could quickly become enemies, and locals even more willingly so, attention was the last thing she wanted. She waited in the shadows, letting the sounds of laughter and cheers wash over her, studying the movements of the helpers of the event. Timing was everything--too soon, and she’d be caught, too late, and the chance would slip through her fingers.

She watched the ebb and flow of the crowd, the way the kitchen door swung open and shut. The music swelled, a lively tune that kept the patrons' focus squarely on the bard and the ongoing contest. It was the perfect cover, a temporary veil that made her invisible.

Eva's fingers twitched slightly as she calculated the right moment to move. The bustling tavern, with its warm light and boisterous patrons, was a world away from the quiet street she had come from, but she kept that darkness with her, a familiar cloak she could wrap around herself when the time came. When the moment felt right--when the laughter reached its peak and the bard's tune reached its crescendo--she would slip out of the shadows and into the kitchen, unnoticed and unbothered.

Strumming along her first tune while keeping a sharp eye about for possible trouble, Ambika noticed a glimmer of a shadow flitting amongst other shadows, sliding its way to the least lit corner of the tavern. She resisted the urge to eye this sneaky shadow further to get a better look, sensing that this one was likely a hypervigilant fellow who would flinch at the slightest pierce in the veil they wore.

Such a strategy would have never flied in her hometown. It was a small village where everyone knew everyone's faces because they must. Everyone knew how to steal, how to hide, how to find hints of a person's presence because it was hammered into each and every person without fail. In such an environment, sneaking would ironically just make you stick out like a sore thumb - a harsh lesson nobody managed to escape from.

Ambika got up from her seat and stepped around the tavern, adding a beat to her music and deftly weaving through the tables, all the while strumming away at her tune as she reaches her crescendo, ending it on a high note right in front of that shadowy corner, being careful not to step too deeply in and invade the shadow's territory, but not leaving enough space for whoever they were to slip through. Taking a bow, she then walked back to her table amidst the hearty cheers and loud applause, where the establishment's patron was waiting to give her a proposition.

"Fine performance there, my bard!" The patron placed their hand on the table with a big smile. "Karina got us a mighty good catch this time around. We're hosting an eating contest today, see, and I feel like you'd be great for upping the ante on the passions, if you catch my drift." The patron then leaned in on Ambika's ear. _{"We're hosting bets too. Five percent of the proceeds sound good to you?"} 

Ambika took a moment to eye the payout ratios by the counter. _"Ten." Ambika replied almost immediately after.
_{"I don't like wasting time, so I'll just put it out there that seven percent's the most I can do. Take it or leave it."} The patron's tone was firm, with a hint of waning interest mixed in.
_"Deal." Something is better than nothing, as they would say.

"Great!" The patron proclaimed loudly and did an exaggerated clap to make sure she had eyewitnesses. "We'll have you on for the second round onwards, enjoy the spectacle until then, yeah?" The patron turned around to leave, and a waiter brought over a sausage and cheese platter and another glass of mulled wine. Ambika dined in as the first round of the eating contest began, being careful to make sure she never lost sight of the uninvited shadow even as the festive roars and claps began echoing throughout the establishment.

Patience.

The ability to endure hardship, suffering, or delays without anger or frustration. Calm. Tolerant.

These words captured Eva's strengths perfectly. As the bard got in her face, Eva’s expression didn’t flinch. She blended seamlessly into the audience, as if she’d been part of it all along. The woman before her was a stranger—alien to her world, her customs, and this very tavern.

A place Eva knew like the back of her hand, just like the streets of Frost Gale she once survived in.

She knew, for instance, about the Dark Elf who ran this tavern. He kept a secret ledger hidden beneath the floorboards, meticulously tracking his off-the-books dealings. Regularly, he bribed the city watch with coin and favours, ensuring his more questionable activities went unnoticed. He had a quiet arrangement with the local butcher, buying meat on the brink of expiration at a fraction of the cost, padding his profits while serving dishes just shy of spoiled.  

The Dark Elf harassing the bard was another regular, well-connected to half the tavern’s clientele, if not all. She kept a close eye on those who made a scene, approaching them later when she needed a tricky job done—the kind of work that didn’t interest Eva. She wouldn’t be surprised if the food used in the eating challenge was simply near-spoiled goods, an attempt to turn a quick profit before they went to waste.

Eva knew the rhythms, the secrets, the whispered exchanges that kept this place running. This knowledge made her blend in effortlessly—a silent observer amidst the chaos. Despite the tavern’s questionable dealings, the business was honest, the people kind. More than once, Eva found shelter here on particularly cold nights, without needing to sneak in. In the end, she didn’t hate the tavern.

It was just the cycle of life. Eva understood that the uneaten food, gorged on during the contest, would be thrown out by morning. Not because it was unsafe, but for legal reasons. She knew this well—she’d scavenged discarded meals often enough.

She watched as Karina gleefully took credit for her scouting, while others crowded around the bard, shouting requests and questions, eager to know more about the stranger they had welcomed. Yet, the bard’s eyes remained fixed on Eva, as if clinging to her shadow.

Eva knew a few tricks to make herself disappear. She could use the shadows to her advantage, slipping into a position where, if she stayed still, people would lose sight of her entirely. She could blend into the background so smoothly that the bard might think she’d exited the way she came, distracted by another noisy patron offering mulled wine or inquiring about her instrument.

But instead, Eva chose to relax into her spot.

Patience.

She kept her gaze steady on the bard, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t doing anything wrong (yet), and even if Ambika called her out, there would be nothing anyone could accuse her of—she was simply there to 'enjoy watching the contest,' a perfectly legitimate activity.

It was a challenge. In another setting, Eva might have felt bitter irritation welling up inside her—a desire to snap back with, 'What do you care?' or 'What do you know?' or 'What does it matter why I’m here?'

But for now, she was content to wait and see what would happen. She walked from her corner of shadows, slipping past a dwarf who was rapidly getting drunk, shouting encouragement to whoever he had bet on. He was so focused on the contest that he didn’t notice an apple disappearing from his basket, as Eva took a nonchalant bite, as if she’d had it all along, and continued her stroll through the noisy tavern.

She glanced back at Ambika, knowing full well that the bard had likely caught her sleight-of-hand. Eva didn’t even try to conceal it. She raised an eyebrow, curious to see what the bard’s next move would be.

The shadow slipped into the light, allowing Ambika to see their features without squinting too much - a Dark Elf with matted white hair, filled with scars and a blind eye. Now she knew who she was dealing with - and it seemed the latter had noticed her inquisitive gazes as she noticed the raised eyebrow directed at her. Ambika did not like this situation one bit. Thieves ran across all walks of life, with all sorts of motivations - trying to evaluate a type of thief in first contact was like trying to determine whether someone would be your future soulmate in your first date. Every now and then she wishes she wasn't so instinctively vigilant when it came to thieves, and today was one of those days. Though most other days it'd keep her out of trouble, so she quickly expunged those thoughts.

The first round of the eating contests were swiftly coming to an end as the tortured groans of pushing beyond satiety emanated from the feasting table, and the winner of the first match was a stout dwarf who had the wisdom to save the carbs for last. The second round was going to start soon, as evident by the patron walking up to Ambika's table yet again, no doubt to bring her over to the rest of the crew.

Noticing that the Dark Elf thief had only been stealing food thus far, and mainly foods with a charitable shelf life, Ambika discreetly slipped a few leftover orange slices from her plate into the thief's pocket as she headed towards the corner with the musician crew to ply her trade. Charity was an effective way to assess a thief's nature, after all, with its unquestioning mercy towards the conscientious, its subtle emboldening of the greedy, and its horrible arrogance towards the prideful.

Eva felt the slight weight of the orange slices as they were slipped into her pocket, and she couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the bard’s subtle move. Charity? It seemed Ambika was trying to gauge her, but Eva had long since learned that kindness often came with strings attached. She might’ve been intentionally caught pilfering an apple, but that was just a part of the game—one she knew how to play far too well.

With the contest winding down, the atmosphere in the tavern shifted, the patrons either groaning in satisfaction or gearing up for the next round. But Eva’s attention was on the bard, who was now making her way toward the corner with the musician crew, undoubtedly to resume her performance. Ambika’s instincts had clearly been on high alert, and Eva could see the faint wariness in the way she moved.

Eva’s hand casually brushed against her pocket, feeling the orange slices nestled there. It was a clever move, one that spoke of someone used to testing the waters before diving in. But Eva wasn’t about to let herself be easily read. She slipped through the crowd, manoeuvring with the grace of someone who had spent her life moving unseen.

Eva approached Ambika, stopping just a few steps away, allowing herself to be noticed without fully stepping into the bard’s personal space. Her voice, when she spoke, was smooth, carrying a hint of amusement.

"I’ve got a request for a tale," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of challenge. "Would you sing something about battles and secrets. I’m sure you’ve got a tune or two that could do them justice."

She tilted her head slightly, watching Ambika’s reaction. "After all, every good story needs a little darkness, don’t you think?"

Eva’s request was more than just a song suggestion—it was a test, a subtle way of seeing how Ambika would respond to the idea of darkness playing a part in her performance. She was curious if the bard would rise to the occasion or if she’d shy away from the darker themes that Eva was all too familiar with. A test to see whose side the bard was on, and if whether she should be cautious moving forward.

Eva’s expression was one of mild curiosity, her tone playful yet cautious. She wasn’t looking for a confrontation, but she wasn’t going to let Ambika think she had her figured out, either. The tavern was a place where masks were worn as easily as cloaks, and Eva was quite comfortable wearing hers.

Her gaze flicked to the crew of musicians, then back to Ambika. With a casual, yet deliberate motion, she slipped a slice of orange from her pocket and tossed it into her mouth. Every movement she made was intentional, and this one spoke volumes: I know what you are. We’re more alike than you think.

Eva’s words were a challenge cloaked in politeness, a subtle invitation for Ambika to make the next move. She wasn’t here to stir trouble, but neither was she one to retreat. The young elf was curious to see how the bard would respond. An ally was always welcome, even if trust would not be on the table for either of them. There was potential for both to gain from their time in the tavern, with none the wiser to the deeper currents beneath the surface. They'd be harming no one, and still making a profit, if the bard agreed to help -- or at least stay out of her way.

The weather in Frost Gale was always cold, even in the summer. It was particularly cruel in winter. One had to prepare for it.

Ambika listened to the Dark Elf thief's words intently, noting the natural and yet equally deliberate way she carried herself, reading into the innuendos behind the words. "Very well," she replied, then turned towards the crew she was seated next to. "When's the next intermission?"

"We have one after the third round, ma'am," The cello player replied. Ambika tipped her head and gestured towards the answer, indicating that's when she'll get her tale.

Once a thief, always a thief. The capacity to take from another was an eternal poison of its own, offering pleasure and damnation in equal measure. The Dark Elf thief was absolutely correct in that they were more alike than they thought. The main difference was that Ambika had the luxury of other options, and also the well-being of others to consider once she stopped being alone, and she made damned sure to keep those other options as open as possible where she could. Even if I am alone now. The Dark Elf thief clearly had nobody else. She was brazen, for dignity was the only thing she could truly call her own. 

Ambika agreed in part because she held a grudging respect for anyone willing to take whatever measures they could to survive. She had been there herself, and was in no position to judge them. Besides, she had been saved by someone who allowed himself to be used for her sake. They were inseparable for 35 long years after that, until that accursed day robbed her of him and practically everything else. Ambika dared not presume she could possibly save the Dark Elf thief - she was thoroughly broken, driven by nothing more than chasing a glimmer of hope that may simply be fading embers - but if it helps the latter live to see another day, then so be it.

Aside from that, this was the Dark Elf's territory, not hers. A tenet she had learned from a long-gone elder before she left her hometown for the outside world was that she should keep distance between herself and fellow thieves. Breaking that tenet and overstepping into the Dark Elf thief's bounds was her folly, so now she had to make sure it does not cost her.

The second round of the eating contest went without a hitch, the winner a muscular Grem who practically devoured the entire platter in 5 swallows. The third round, however, seemed to have brewed a new bottle of trouble. The winner was a now plump Fellblood who started horribly skinny, gorging into the food with the multiple mouths on their arms and winning that way. They clearly had a much larger appetite than their appearance would suggest, leading Ambika to speculate that they might have been a deliberate choice on the part of the tavern as the groans of frustrated gamblers rumbled in the air. The musical crew likely noticed the discontent as did Ambika, and they got together to try to calm the straits with some soothing music, but to no avail. An indignant drunkard attempted to punch the Fellblood before they were stopped by the establishment's patron and security took them away, which cooled the environment somewhat, but it was probably a matter of time before things boiled over.

Eva caught Ambika’s eye and gave a knowing smile. There was now an unspoken understanding between them—both knew how to play the festival’s chaotic game to their advantage. Eva appreciated the silent camaraderie; finding someone with a shared knack for navigating such situations was a rare treat.

"Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?" she remarked with a smirk. "That Fellblood really knows how to make a meal of it—quite literally. I haven’t seen such an impressive display of appetite since... well, let’s just say it’s not every day you see someone clean their plate in record time."

She let her comment ripple through the crowd, subtly adding to the growing discontent. The crowd's frustration was palpable, and Eva enjoyed watching the tension build.

As the chaos unfolded and the festival reached its fever pitch, Eva moved with practiced ease. The frantic energy of the crowd created the perfect cover for her to execute her plan. She wove through the throng, her eyes sharp for the bounty she sought—the leftovers and the half-eaten food from the contest.

Navigating through them easily, she spotted her prize: discarded platters of food, some still rich with hearty fare, others barely touched. With deft movements, she gathered what she could, scooping up the remnants of the feast that had been abandoned in the wake of the contest’s frenzy.

Her actions were swift and unnoticed amidst the commotion. She snatched up the food with a determined efficiency, her hands collecting the remnants of meat and bread, all the while avoiding the curious glances of those around her, shadows of the dimly lit tavern aiding her every move. The chaos of the festival served as her cover, the cacophony of voices and laughter masking the subtle thievery.

As she made her way through the raucous crowd, she packed her ill-gotten goods into a sack. The half-eaten fare, once destined for the refuse pile, now represented a small victory—a tangible asset in her struggle against the coming winter. The festival's vibrant chaos was a stark contrast to the grim reality she faced, but for now, she savoured the spoils of her cunning.

The sack carefully positioned besides her, she found her spot back in the shadows, leaving behind just enough plates and food that to anyone else, it would have just looked like everyone else was close to winning. She doubted many cared for the plates left behind anyway, as they were starting to be gathered back, the table getting cleaned. 

Mission accomplished, Eva lingered to savor any additional tales the bard might spin for the crowd. She wondered whether the bard had taken note of her subtle artistry or if her intricate dance of deception had gone completely unnoticed. It would indeed be a pity if it had, for she had made sure her manoeuvring through the bickering drunks and swaying crowds was nothing short of a performance—an elegant ballet of mischief and finesse.

As the Dark Elf thief flitted in and out of Ambika's view, the leftovers on the eating contest table became a shadow of what it was - the remains were spaced to give an illusion of the portions that were left over, when in reality it was much lesser than it looked. It was certainly the best choice for unsolicited acquisitions - nobody would really care about food already pegged to be eaten except the most miserly of fellows. And those people wouldn't be running a food establishment.

There were another three rounds left for the eating contest after the intermission, but Ambika's instincts were telling her she should leave. Fast. Not one to discount her years of dealing with tavern chaos, she got up and headed towards the establishment's patron for her proceeds, not caring that it meant reduced revenue on her part. Besides, the Fellbound win must've netted the tavern quite the bag anyway, so it should be enough for her to weather the currents until she was out of Frost Gale.

The establishment's patron was visibly displeased, threatening to pay only for the rounds with confirmed payouts. Ambika agreed without a second thought, causing the patron to be taken aback momentarily before snapping back to reality and begrudgingly holding up to the end of their bargain. 

Just in time, too, as when the patron was just about to finish counting the Solars, the tavern's double doors slammed open. It was a bandit raid. Ambika had zero interest in dealing with the bandits - her lute was as useful as a toy sword as it is now, and this wasn't any of her business anyway. She snatched her share of the Solars from the counter and dashed her way back to her instrument case on her table, narrowly avoiding the sweep of a spear on her way there.

Stuffing her lute into her instrument case and her Solars into her pouch, Ambika was now set to leave the tavern... Except the entrance was well-guarded and sealed shut, probably from both sides if she had to guess. Which left the backdoor as the only probable exit, but she had a better option. She locked her sights on the Dark Elf thief. If this was indeed her turf, she would know the best route out of this situation and Ambika could then follow her lead to safety.

This was becoming more common lately—bandits, mercenaries. Eva had heard of them, the ones who called themselves 'The Iron Hawks.'

She doubted they were here on a job, more likely drawn by a personal agenda: enjoying the festivities on their own terms. To them, that probably meant drinking without paying, harassing a patron or two, and escalating any argument into a brawl they could revel in. They likely sniffed out the chaos brewing in the tavern and decided it was their turn to stir things up.

Well, Eva wasn’t interested in being part of it. She didn’t care about The Iron Hawks, nor the leader they all seemed to worship. As they slipped in, she recognized a face or two, including a former guard she knew well enough—a cruel man, both to the locals and criminals alike. He was the type who enjoyed inflicting pain for its own sake, rather than for any ideals. 

Seeing him now, reduced to joining a criminal faction, brought her a small sense of satisfaction. The rags he wore suited his personality far better than the quality armour he once flaunted, armour that never matched the respect he demanded but never truly earned.

Just as she was about to slip out with what she’d collected, she noticed the bard catching her gaze.

Ugh.

Fine.

Eva supposed she could help the woman out, especially since she hadn’t made things difficult for her earlier. It would be trickier than just slipping out on her own, using her agility and familiarity with the streets to navigate any obstacles they might face. With a roll of her eyes and a nod of her head, the dark elf subtly gestured toward the tavern's kitchen, where she knew of a hidden exit that led directly to a narrow alley. If the older woman could make her way into the kitchen, it would provide an easy way out of the tavern without raising any suspicions.

While moving fluidly through the crowd, who were now beginning to rise to their feet, she didn't bother to check if Ambika was keeping pace. She would lead her out and to safety, but after that, the woman was on her own. She wasn't hiding in the shadows now, making sure the bard could track her movements, though she was still quiet and nimble enough that no other patron paid her any mind.

Reaching the kitchen, she quickly picked the lock of the narrow door with a small piece of broken metal from her pouch. Slipping out first, she dragged her sack of food behind her and kicked a small rock into the doorway to prevent the door from locking again, keeping the mechanism from kicking in.  

As she stepped into the cold alley, the distant sounds of the revelry inside faded, replaced by the quiet hum of the city at night. Eva paused, scanning the dimly lit street for any signs of trouble. The air was crisp, the night still, and she could almost feel the shadows pressing in around her, like old friends eager to embrace her.

There was a fleeting moment of peace as she stood there, the weight of the night and the sack in her hands grounding her. But Eva knew better than to linger. She cast one last glance back at the doorway, where she had left the path open for Ambika, before slipping into the night, melting into the darkened streets like a whisper on the wind. 

Tonight, survival had been a dance with shadows, and Eva was already moving on to the next step.

Expertly weaving between the standing crowd and the clashes, avoiding a number of close calls and making sure nobody else was paying attention to her, Ambika made her way towards the tavern's kitchen as gestured by the Dark Elf thief, where she found a narrow door just barely ajar, kept open by a small rock. She walked out the door with a silent confidence, as though there was absolutely nothing wrong with her walking out said door, discreetly kicking away the small rock as she did so that nobody else would be any wiser to the deceit.

The streets were much quieter now, a striking contrast from when she had arrived in the day. Ambika knew not where the Dark Elf thief had went, but she did not have to. Let the shadows guide your escape. The elder's words echoed in her mind as though it was uttered just an instant ago. She let her senses guide her to where she needed to go, finding her way into a largely unoccupied neighbourhood, likely kept as it is due to lack of funds or unfavourable building conditions.

Slipping into an abandoned building, Ambika raised the hair normally covering her left eye to do most of the seeing amidst the darkness, finding a still servicable wooden chair amidst the mess and sitting down.

"You stayed," Ambika spoke to no one in particular as she removed her lute from her instrument case and set upon delivering her promise.

A song of two people on the opposite sides of an aisle, where an assassin regularly attempted to murder a noble under the guise of sparring among fellows, and the noble knowing full well the reality yet pretending otherwise. The assassin engineered a situation where she would be targeted by bandits, but when the noble took the engineered hit, the assassin found themselves welling with pure emotions and ended up murdering the bandits they had hired in the first place. The noble confessed that they had known the entire time, but loved the assassin too much to ruin the interactions they had. Luckily, tragedy was not to be as the noble was only pretending to be hurt. This enraged the assassin such that they actually stabbed the noble causing the latter to have to get treated, the two fumbling through awkward explanations trying to hide their embarrassment.

The shadow believed it's chasing me ♪
Who was I to say otherwise ♪
The shadow quivers and sings ♪
We shan't ever be without ♪

Her performance complete, Ambika packed up and headed out the entrance into the night.