Snider didn’t hear her as the auctioneer cried out, “Very well then, let's begin!” With his imagination, the auctioneer moved his floating crystal into position over the crowd. The guards held their positions but stood at ease. The crystal began to emanate a dim light over the crowd as the auctioneer raised an arm into the air. “Let’s start this off at 3,000 mezos!” he loudly cried out, slicing the air with his arm.

One in attendance, a human, raised an index finger in the air. “Marc Anvalos, Upper Prefecture.”

“Anyone for 3,500 mezos?” nodded the auctioneer.

“5,000! Opalina Filatos, Commons,” said a fymph.

“6,000 mezos! Snider Ironclaw, Central Prefecture,” Snider jumped in, giving a look of assurance to Lorayla.

A moment of tense silence fell upon the crowd. As the silence continued, Lorayla began to feel as though Snider might actually win.

“Going once!” cried the auctioneer. “Going twice!...”

Lorayla could almost taste victory, but in the corner of her eye, she saw a dwarf standing next to the first bidder give a nudge on the man’s coat.

“6,500!” Marc Anvalos interjected.

“Almost,” the woman heard Snider whisper as he clenched his fist. “Seven!”

The dwarf nudged once more on Marc’s coat. “Seven-five!”

Ceecil made eye contact with Snider, motioning his head at the auctioneer. Snider gave a hesitant nod. “10,000 mezos!”

The dwarf standing by Marc turned to Lorayla. Her gaze met his, and a chill tingled down her spine. Why does that dwarf seem familiar? Lorayla thought. Without turning away his gaze at Lorayla, the dwarf tugged twice on Marc’s coat.

“15,000!” the man declared. Lorayla thought she saw the grin on the dwarf’s face turn into a sneer before he looked away.

“Going once!...Going twice!...” said the auctioneer.

A sinking feeling came over Lorayla as Snider raised his hands and shook his head. “We’re all in,” she dreadfully heard him say.

The auctioneer smiled. “Sold! For 15,000 mezos to Marc Anvalos from the Upper Prefecture.” The green crystal above the crowd retracted its light and returned to the auctioneer, who quickly put it back into his vest. “This officially ends the auction. Darune thanks you for your participation. Marc Anvalos, a quick word if you please,” the auctioneer motioned the man to come near. The dwarf at his side shook a fist in triumph.

“This isn’t right…not fair,” Lorayla said to herself, clenching her fists.

“I’m so sorry,” Snider said defeatedly. “I wish we could have done more…”

“Don’t forget about the grievance. We still have that!” Ceecil noted with a cheery tone, attempting to instill a feeling of hope.

“Grievance?” someone interrupted.

Where have I heard that voice before… Lorayla turned to connect the person to the dwarf who had been with Marc Anvalos. The dwarf had slipped away from the man who was conversing quietly with the auctioneer, making his way through the dispersing crowd toward Lorayla. “Did I hear that right? A grievance?” He chuckled, stopping beside Lorayla’s party.

“Yes! A grievance! And why is that so humorous?” Snider said defensively. “Once she proves who she is, this auction will have been nothing but an empty performance.”

A sinister look took over the dwarf’s face, his tone becoming somewhat menacing. “She’ll never get the chance…” he sneered as he glanced at Lorayla. “Isn’t that right? Fair Maiden?”

Lorayla felt as though lightning had struck her senses as it became clearly obvious to her who indeed the dwarf was. “Only Zaniel called me by that name… and also the one who had his life taken!” The woman reached into her cloak to grasp her crystal, and Ethany followed Lorayla’s lead.

“You wretch! I’ll destroy you for what you’ve done!” The desire for justice and revenge overwhelmed Lorayla’s senses. She clasped the purple crystal in her pocket and, by its power and influence, was about to materialize a long strand of purple chains to attack the dwarf. A strong hand, however, grabbed her arm. Lorayla immediately froze. The hand felt like her father’s, and she immediately withdrew her hand from her pocket.

“Lori! This one isn’t worth it!”

Lorayla turned tremblingly. “Obin! Let me go! This one must pay for his actions!”

“Perhaps that is true. But this isn’t the way…not now…not here.”

“Hey, old man, I see you still haven’t croaked yet,” jested the dwarf.

“Not when there are still friends I care about that need protecting,” Obin retorted calmly.

“Careful,” cautioned the dwarf. “You might just find yourself in a similar situation as our Fair Maiden here.”

“I highly doubt that, Shovelan. You know you’d never bother me. Too risky, right?”

Shovelan snarled at Obin but quickly changed his demeanor as he glanced away from him and back to Lorayla. “Maybe…but now, Fair Maiden, there’s something different about you this time around. Something that possibly connects us.”

“You disgust me! And I’ll make sure my father and Zaniel are avenged!” said Lorayla.

“We’ll see about that,” Shovelan said coolly as Marc Anvalos stepped away from the auctioneer and looked in his direction. The nearby guards watched the scene closely, ready to pounce on the first to display violent aggression. “We can sort this out later, Fair Maiden, now that I own your father’s property.”

“Oh, we’ll definitely sort this out!” Lorayla growled.

“We’ll come to some arrangement, I’m sure, especially when you realize your newfound strength.” Shoveland turned away and strolled onward with Marc Anvalos. The auctioneer also took his leave with his guard escorts.

“I’ll kill him!” Lorayla swore, just above a whisper.

“Lori…what’s gotten into you?” Obin asked, releasing her arm. “I know much has happened with the loss of your father and the tavern, but to want to murder someone?”

Lorayla subconsciously placed a hand on her abdomen, then looked at Obin. She was about to reply sharply to the old man but something about his presence seemed calming. “You… you don’t understand…” she said in a low tone, the tenseness of her body relaxing somewhat. Sensing no immediate danger, Ethany also stood at ease.

“I may not, but I do know you’re in danger. Shovelan is a dangerous person, and it looks as though you’re in his sights.”

“From the way you acted,” Snider jumped into the conversation, “it’s like you know that dwarf in some way.”  

“He tried to recruit me...” Obin mused. “No…more like tempt me, many years ago, to join him in his enterprise. I had a feeling his practices were dishonest, and I wanted nothing to do with him, no matter how many mezos he offered. I’d love to arrest him myself, but he’s always managed to cover his tracks. Someday, he’ll slip.”

“Someday…he’ll be no more,” Lorayla said with distant determination.

Obin looked at her apprehensively. “Perhaps we should be going. Let’s go back to my place. I’ve taken leave for the rest of the day. Of course, all of you can come, if you wish.”

“Ceecil and I had something to do, but I’m sure I can speak for both of us that we’re up for it,” Snider said excitedly, Ceecil nodding his approval. Snider warmly laid a hand on Lorayla’s shoulder. “There’s much to catch up on. What happened…and where have you been?”

“It’s complicated.” Lorayla looked away and brushed aside Snider’s hand.

“Well, I’d say so…” said Snider. “Many people are dead. Ceecil and I are lucky to be alive… And your father and the tavern…Please, I think it would do us good to know what happened.”

“I agree with your friends, Lori,” Obin spoke up. “Any information you may have could assist in bringing justice for all who were affected by what happened here. But, as I mentioned before, I believe we should retire to my abode first.”

“I don’t want to leave just yet!” Lorayla said hastily. “Can I just have a moment?” 

Obin softened at the determination and sorrow reflected in Lorayla’s eyes. “I suppose a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. You must be quick, Lori. I’m sure Shoveland is already making a move. We need to get off the street.”

The woman nodded, trembling as she stepped away and passed over what once was the doorway to the tavern. Ash and soot lifted and settled again with each step until she stopped at a particular place in the rubble. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she knelt and uncovered a tiny porcelain pitcher from the ashy remains. One of Father’s creamer pitchers… Lorayla brushed the debris from the artifact, and memories of her childhood assailed her. She remembered sneaking sips from the pitcher when she thought her father was not looking.

Lorayla dropped to one knee, a glimmer catching her eye. She reached for it and out of the dusty ashes retrieved a small, shaped stone. Mother’s precious stone…Father kept it in his personal box…he never had a chance to make it into a necklace before Mother died…

The woman scanned the rubble for a few more minutes before Ethany came to her. “Your friends think it’s time to go. I don’t like that Obin fellow. He’s been staring at me.”

“Can’t your comments wait until I’m finished,” Lorayla snapped, her voice wavering. She turned away, nudging aside pieces of burnt wood with her foot.

“Maybe…but I’m concerned if he thinks I’m…pretty.”

Lorayla exhaled. “Well, you aren’t ugly. Is it so bad if he thinks you’re nice to look at, even with that mask on?”

“Where I come from, pretty things get taken. They become objects of possession and then are thrown out like refuse when they are of no more use. This is why…why I wear my mask.”

“How does that mask protect you, exactly?” asked Lorayla as she stumbled upon something under a small mound of rubble. Brushing the ash and debris away, she discovered the remains of her artwork she had displayed that night when trouble had come to the tavern.

“It covers me with the illusion of an old lady, specifically a much older version of myself,” said Ethany. She frowned as Lorayla lifted a burnt canvas from the ground.

“An illusion, you say?” Lorayla murmured distantly. A small portion of her artwork was still intact and undamaged. The dolligarnias, she thought. She traced her fingers over the pinkish-white flowers her father had praised her for capturing so keenly with paint and brush. “An illusion…” she said under her breath as she motioned to toss the canvas back into the rubble. She stopped, however, as an image of her father came to mind, her eyes still fixed upon the painted dolligarnias. Lorayla quickly placed the small creamer pitcher and her mother’s stone inside her cloak. Using her free hand, she tore the section of the dolligarnias from the ruined painting and discarded the remaining canvas.

“Why do you want that?” asked Ethany.

“I just…want it,” replied Lorayla, tucking it away with her other keepsakes. “And I believe you’re right. We should be leaving.” She wiped her hands together to clean off the soot. As the two began to slowly make their way out from the rubble together, Lorayla took a quick last look around before glancing at Ethany with a smirk. “Now, what is this you’ve revealed to me? Did I hear right? Your mask can create an illusion?”

Ethany nodded. “Indeed, and that is why I’m concerned. I believe that old man has some kind of power to see through it.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t work on me. Does that mean I have some kind of power, too?”

“No, the illusion only works on men.”

Lorayla raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with Obin. Yet, I can’t help but wonder what we could do with a mask like that.”

“If you’re asking me to let you use it, forget it. I’m not taking it off while in Darune.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Lorayla’s smirk grew wider. “But I’m sure we could use it to our advantage somehow.”

“Maybe,” Ethany replied skeptically.

“Anyhow, one way or another…” Lorayla started, clenching a fist. “I will get my father’s land back, and Shoveland will pay!”

“And I will be keeping an eye on your Obin friend."