Adventure of Pando 1

Orlan lowers his voice and points beneath the counter, where a flour ledger rests beside a cooling loaf. The rear door remains latched.

The bakery’s front shutters rattle under passing footsteps. Tessa tightens her grip on the blood-forged dagger, keeping its point lowered.

Orlan slips from behind the counter and gestures toward a narrow passage crowded with sacks. Outside, boots pause near the bakery entrance.

Pando reaches across the counter and takes two pieces from the cooling loaf, keeping one for himself and offering the other toward Tessa as Orlan waits by the passage.

Tessa accepts the bread and tucks it carefully against her vest while keeping the blood-forged dagger lowered. Pando follows Orlan between the crowded flour sacks.

Orlan reaches the flour room and kneels beside the soot-dark hearth. He presses two fingers beneath a broad stone and lifts it, revealing a folded, flour-dusted page.

Orlan keeps one hand on the lifted hearthstone and looks from Pando to Tessa. Flour dust hangs in the warm air between them.

Tessa lowers the dagger another inch. Her marked hand closes around the bread tucked against her vest, while the torn page lies exposed beside Orlan’s knee.

Pando reaches beside Orlan’s knee and takes the flour-dusted page. The torn edge, Brant’s handwriting, and the accusation are clear in the warm hearthlight.

Tessa studies the page over Pando’s hand. Her lowered dagger remains steady, while the footsteps outside shift closer along the bakery’s front wall.

Pando folds Brant’s accusation beneath his cloak and leads Tessa toward the back stair. Orlan replaces the hearthstone, then hurries after them through the flour bins.

Pando pushes open the stair door. Its swollen hinges groan through the bakery, and boots outside answer with a startled scrape against the front threshold.

Pando and Tessa climb quickly. The page remains safe beneath his cloak, but flour dust shakes from the beams and settles across his wounded palm.

Tessa pauses beneath the low beams, keeping one hand near the marked knuckles and the other pressed against the hidden bread. Lantern light leaks through the storeroom door ahead.

Orlan opens the unbarred street door a handspan and checks Lantern Street. No patrol stands immediately outside, and the old storeroom offers a clear route toward the eastern gate.

Orlan opens the street door wider. Lantern Street lies empty for the moment, but the hinges give a sharp groan that carries into the bakery.

A shutter bangs somewhere down the street, followed by a muffled call from the direction of the square. Orlan glances back toward the flour room.

Orlan presses the door shut behind them and lowers the latch. The movement leaves flour across his sleeve, a small sign that someone has left the bakery in haste.

Pando leads Tessa from the bakery into Lantern Street, folding them between flour porters, market women, and a knot of townsfolk leaving the square. Their lowered faces pass without challenge.

Under cover of a passing cartless press of bodies, Pando brushes Tessa’s marked knuckles. The symbol pulses, and the blood-forged dagger dissolves into a thin red-black thread beneath his palm.

The reclaiming costs him a sharp pull through his wounded hand. His fingers close around the returning curse, and a fresh bead of blood slips beneath his sleeve.

They follow the crowd east along the soot-darkened street. Watch patrols move near the square behind them, while the eastern barracks rise ahead beneath Captain Vey’s lantern.

Pando guides Tessa into a narrow alley beside the eastern barracks. Stacked crates and a sagging awning conceal them from the street while lanterns burn above the barracks entrance.

They settle behind the crates, with a clear view of the barracks door. Daylight fades across the rooftops, and evening chill gathers in the alley’s damp stones.

Night settles over Lantern Street. The barracks lanterns brighten, patrols change below, and the upper windows glow steadily above the eastern wall.

Pando points toward the barracks wall, where a low extension roof meets the upper stonework beneath Captain Vey’s glowing windows. The alley’s awning hides the approach.

Tessa gathers the page beneath her vest and follows Pando across the alley. He climbs onto the sagging awning, then reaches the roofline without disturbing the barracks lanterns.

From the roof, Pando crosses to the wall and pulls himself over the stone parapet. Tessa follows carefully, her boots finding the same secure handholds.

They stand on the narrow second-floor ledge beneath Captain Vey’s rooms. Warm light spills through the shutters, and a quiet voice moves inside.

Pando eases one shutter open with two fingers and peers through the narrow gap. Captain Vey’s room lies clearly visible beyond the warm lamplight.

Captain Maela Vey, a broad-shouldered middle-aged woman with close-cropped iron-gray hair, stands in a dark green uniform beside a desk crowded with patrol reports.Her weathered light skin and square face are visible in the lamplight.

A second document lies open beside her hand, bearing Brant’s name and a list of seized possessions. The inner door remains unlatched, revealing a clear path into her rooms.

Vey turns toward a washstand, leaving the desk and its papers briefly unattended. Moonlight catches the key hanging from her belt, while the room stays quiet.

Pando eases the shutter farther open, keeping the hinges quiet. He slips through the window and lowers himself into Captain Vey’s lamplit room without disturbing the desk.

Tessa follows across the ledge and climbs through after him, drawing the shutter nearly closed behind them. Moonlight narrows to a thin line across the floor.

The room smells of lamp oil, leather, and rain-damp wool. Captain Vey remains at the washstand with her back turned, unaware of the silent entrance.

Her key rests against her belt, and the open report beside the desk bears Brant’s name. The inner door stays unlatched, offering a clear path back toward the barracks.

Vey turns from the washstand and reaches for a cloth. Tessa remains close to the window, holding still while Pando stands within the room and the proof waits beneath his cloak.

Pando’s voice cuts through the lamplit room. The raised volume carries into the barracks beyond the inner door, and Tessa stiffens beside the window.

Captain Maela Vey turns fully toward Pando, one hand settling near the key at her belt. Her gaze shifts to Tessa, then to the cloak concealing Orlan’s page.

Tessa draws the flour-dusted page from beneath her vest and holds it out. Outside, boots halt beyond the inner door, alerted by Pando’s greeting.

Pando places a steady hand on Tessa’s shoulder. She passes the flour-dusted page to Captain Captain Maela Vey, keeping her marked hand and dagger lowered.

Captain Maela Vey takes the page and holds it beneath the lamp. Her eyes track Brant’s handwriting, the torn edge, and the accusation’s uneven final lines.

Boots shift beyond the inner door. Captain Captain Maela Vey folds the page once, then turns toward the sound with her expression hardened and one hand near her belt key.

Pando looks toward the inner door as the boots stop outside. His question carries through the room, and the movement beyond goes suddenly still.

The latch lifts. Brant enters in blue-gray mail, a broad middle-aged man with a reddened face and one hand resting near his sword. Two watchmen remain behind him.

Brant’s certainty falters. Vey steps between him and the desk, keeping the accusation in her grasp while the watchmen glance uneasily at one another.

Pando leans against the wall, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. The room holds its breath around him while Brant stands exposed beneath Captain Vey’s stare.

Vey does not look away from him. Behind Brant, one watchman lowers his gaze, while the other shifts aside and leaves the inner doorway unobstructed.

Vey places the torn page beside Brant’s report and aligns their ragged edges. The match is exact, and the silence that follows settles heavily over the room.

Pando opens his eyes and fixes Brant with an unwavering stare. The room’s silence gives his accusation the force of a drawn blade.

Brant’s hand tightens near his sword, but he does not draw. The watchman behind him, a middle-aged human man with a lean build, close-cropped brown hair, and a blue-gray watch coat over mail, looks toward Captain Vey instead of defending his sergeant.

Vey’s expression hardens. She takes Brant’s report, the torn page, and the witness’s words together, then removes the key from her belt and locks the desk drawer around the evidence.

Pando steps closer to Brant, crossing the space between them without touching him. The sergeant’s hand remains near his sword, but the witness and Captain Vey hold the room against him.

Brant’s jaw tightens. The watchman beside him keeps his eyes lowered, while the second guard shifts fully away from Brant’s shoulder and leaves him without visible support.

Pando smirks and turns his challenge toward Captain Vey, while Brant’s fingers tighten near his sword. Tessa goes still beside the locked desk.

Vey extends one hand toward Brant’s weapon belt, then points to the empty space before her desk. The watchmen step closer, making a ring neither man can casually cross.

Pando keeps his hands open and away from his blood-forged curse. The clarification settles over the room, while Brant’s restrained sword belt gives a faint metallic clink.

The challenge draws a sharp murmur from the two watchmen. One steps back from the doorway, giving the proposal space but watching Pando with new suspicion.

Pando looks to Tessa and gives her a steady, reassuring glance. Her grip loosens around the borrowed bread, though worry remains in her eyes.

Pando turns back to Brant and steps into the cleared space, setting his feet and raising empty hands. The movement pulls at his wounded palm, reopening the cut beneath his sleeve.

Brant removes his sword belt and hands it to the nearer watchman. He rolls his shoulders, then advances with his fists raised, boots scraping across the floorboards.

Brant lunges, his right fist cutting toward Pando’s face. Pando slips aside at the last instant, the blow grazing his raised forearm instead of landing cleanly.

Pando pivots inside Brant’s reach and drives a hard punch into the sergeant’s lower ribs. Brant folds around the impact and staggers sideways, breath forced from him.

The strike jars Pando’s wounded palm open again. Blood warms his sleeve, and the sharp pain briefly disrupts his balance as he resets his stance.

Brant presses one arm against his ribs, face reddening as he fights for breath. He keeps his fists raised, but his advance has stopped.

Pando drives his first fist into Brant’s stomach, forcing the sergeant backward with a harsh gasp. Before Brant can recover, Pando pivots low.

His second punch strikes Brant’s kneecap squarely. The sergeant’s leg buckles, and he drops to one knee, one hand braced against the floor.

Brant clutches his injured knee and struggles to raise his other fist. His face has gone pale, while Pando’s wounded palm stains his sleeve.

Captain Vey steps between them, one hand raised. The watchmen move to either side of Brant, ready to restrain him as the room’s balance shifts decisively.

Pando remains standing over Brant, who lies unconscious beneath the captain’s raised hand. His wounded palm stains his sleeve as he turns toward Tessa.

Pando gives Tessa a smile. Her shoulders ease, and she lowers the bread from her marked hand while the watchmen keep Brant safely contained.

The nearer watchman kneels beside Brant and checks his breathing before binding his wrists. The other gathers the discarded sword belt and badge.

Pando pats Tessa gently on the head, then turns toward Captain Vey. Tessa blinks, surprised, before lowering her marked hand and standing straighter.

The watchmen lift Brant carefully from the floor and carry him toward the inner passage. His sword, badge, and report remain secured beneath Vey’s control.

Vey unlocks the desk and places Brant’s report beside the torn page. Outside, the barracks stirs as word of the sergeant’s suspension begins spreading through the halls.