The stench of the sewers permeated its way into both their noses as they made their way into the ratways under the city. They were a maze of tunnels that ran adjacent and through the new and old sewers. If not for Fionn being with her, Oleander knew she would have been lost already.

His knowledge of this undercity to Colchester was a valuable asset in her eyes, and it had her wondering if his other talents could be of equal use. At the very least his ability to pick locks and spot traps gave him a certain staying power in her eyes. She was particular about her travelling company. If only due to the harsh lessons of experience.

For the time being she put that notion on the back burner, needing her wits about her at present. They were nowhere near being far enough away from danger yet, and she could still feel that slimy chill down her spine at the thought. She knew that little would stop Darcy, let alone slow him down. It was the only thing that he was truly reliable for beyond his “business” practices.

Bringing her focus back to the task at hand Oleander continued to walk at a brisk pace down the cramped tunnel, dragging one hand against the wall. Most of it was made of uneven bricks, showing the old paths of traffic it once saw to that elevator. In places there were gaps where dirt and rough stone peeked through, a product of how the tunnels were dug out under the city. Other parts had short flights of stairs that raised them up and down in a disorienting manner. It was hard to truly tell where any path began or ended without looking for the etchings left in the bricks and stone.

This was another way in which Fionn shone, if only for his underground knowledge and connections. He kept watching the walls for the symbols etched into them, and had used every previous one to adjust their winding route. The only trouble was his overbearing silence with the claustrophobic darkness around them as he did this. 

There was no conversation. Barely even a breath. Just the sound of flowing water getting ever louder and their own footsteps echoing into the dark around them.

A true sound of a certain sobering loneliness to these tunnels.

A sound that she knew wouldn’t be lasting long as a waft of warm, putrid, air rushed over them both when they rounded the bend of their path. They had reached the where the ratways met the sewers, and their dry path narrowed all the more for it. Not that it seemed to slow down Fionn all that much. 

He, unlike her, was quick to keep moving along the ledge-like path bordering a drop into the dubious wastewater flowing before them. It was only now that he even spoke up again, lowering his muffler only for that brief moment, “Hug the wall and stay close, and cover the light of the lantern when I say.”

She wanted to ask him what that last part meant, given how ominous it was. If only for his warning earlier of the possible monsters they could face down here, she held her tongue. Letting out a soft sigh she just gave him a nod, and raised the lantern to get a better view of the ledge before following him deeper.

He had already brought her this far, and hadn’t even tried to make a pass at her bag. Yet, that is. She held some wary suspicions about him even with all the help he had been so far. Something she felt wasn’t unfounded.

Not that she was entirely worried about it either. She would have known by now if he made any attempt at any of the moments he had lingered behind her before now. It was one of the benefits of having a tail like hers and how she wore her bag. The flicking sway with those five, sharp, almost feather-like spines along the end of it were a great deterrent to any would-be thief.

There was also the nagging fact that he committed to their escape route with that bomb in the lift shaft, even if she was the one who had to set it off. That alone would be too much effort for a dossier to a literal death trap of a ruin. It didn’t mean the matter of the dossier wasn’t in some part a bit of encouragement for him either.

“So, what are you expecting for helping me?” Oleander didn’t sugar-coat an ounce of the blunt question she directed at him, slowly shuffling along the ledge.

“Well, seeing you deck the “Almighty Lord Collins” is both enough and priceless.” Fionn snorted, failing to hold back a brief laugh, “but if we’re talking any sort of price… I’m curious about what you’re hunting.”

That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. Any curiosity meant more trouble in her way when it came to her hunt of the White Raven. She had to be careful now, lest he get the wrong ideas about those ruins like too many before him, “I can already tell you it isn’t any sort of treasure, or anything that can get you riches. Despite what anyone else might say.”

“So the same old about the cursed ruins of the elves? You know that doesn’t really stop the treasure hunters, right?”

“I know. Believe me, I know. All the same I am serious about this: What I am hunting for is no treasure. If we can get out of here safely maybe I’ll tell you more. But for now, please understand that the less you know the better.”

He remained silent for a while, seeming to think about her explanation before only saying, “Fair enough.”

Whether or not he took her warning seriously was unclear. Unclear and uncomfortable for her. It left her unable to stop worrying about what ulterior motives he could have. A feeling she really hated to have wearing her down; and one she had a hard time simply dismissing.

Holding it down, though, was something she could do as she focused on the path ahead of them. The narrow pathway was steadily widening from the narrow ledge they were shuffling along, and she could see the glint of a metal grate walkway in the edge of the lantern light.