Cold ditch water sucks at the bank, and rush grass hisses in the wind. David Clarkson edges toward the skiff as the guards lock shields on the road above.
The Woman at the Window is at his shoulder, eyes on the reeds. The Reed Man stares after the ledger bundle, too far to reach, too angry to quit.
The First Inquisitor lifts a hand, and the line on the road tightens. One guard steps toward the ditch, spear angled low.
The Woman at the Window
Now. Take the boat, David.
David moves at once, splashing into the skiff. The hidden hull rocks under his weight, half-lost in the reeds.
The Reed Man
You do not leave with my work!
The skiff jolts free as someone shoves it from the bank. Mud and reed roots blur past, and the ditch mouth falls behind them.
“I shove for open water”
SUCCESS (Good Strength, rolled -1)
David plants the staff against the skiff floor and heaves. The little boat surges clear of the mud, bow swinging toward the darker current.
His sleeve catches on a reed root and tears free with a dry rip, spinning back toward the bank as he keeps the hull moving.
The Woman at the Window
Keep low. Let the water take you.
The Reed Man
That cloth was my proof. Remember it.
Above them, the First Inquisitor holds the road line firm, but the spear point at the ditch stops short of the flood edge.
The skiff slides free into the ditch flow, beyond the bank, while the city wall and its guards begin to fall behind.
Cold spray hits David’s face, and the ledger bundle slips wet in his grip as the woman leans in to steady the boat.
Quest Complete
Escape the city with the woman
New Gift: Urban Evasion
The skiff caught the current and slid from the bank.
The Woman at the Window
Go on, then. Let the river hide you.
First Inquisitor
He will answer for this.
David Clarkson
Not today.
The Reed Man stood useless in the reeds, while the guards held the road and watched the distance grow.
David Clarkson drifted beyond the city's reach with the ledgers wrapped tight against the wet. Behind him, the bank went still and the voices thinned to memory. Whatever justice or ruin those pages carried, they were now his burden alone.