'How could I be so stupid?' Lyney thought while he and his sister were cornered in Fontaine's back alleys, being stared down by a group of bandits.
"You brats are quick, I'll give you that," one bandit huffed, trying to catch his breath. "Now hand over your mora and I won't so much as touch a hair on your head."
He stretched out his hand expectantly.
"I'm sorry, Lynette," Lyney muttered, guilt weighing in his chest. After all, he was the one who'd suggested counting the mora without checking if they were being followed.
With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly handed over the bag they had just received.
"There, see? That wasn't so hard," the bandit said, grinning as he gave the bag a shake, the coins jingling inside.
"Lyney, don't blame yourself," Lynette said firmly, glaring at the bandits with open disgust. "Who would've thought a bunch of grown men would stoop so low as to rob orphans?"
"What did you just say?!" one of them barked.
"Don't mind her mouth," the leader laughed darkly. "She's right, we're stealing from orphans but do we care? Not in the slightest."
Lyney shot a knowing glance at his sister—now was their chance to slip away before the men thought to check the bag's contents.
Straightening an invisible tie, he cleared his throat and put on his best act. "Well then, if that's all, we'll be on our way," he said with a disarming smile.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Lynette's hand, and the two dashed down the alley.
The Bandit holding the bag simply shrugged and let them go—until curiosity got the better of him. Opening the bag, his grin vanished.
Inside were nothing but cheap tokens.
Lyney looked back with a mischievous smile. "Didn't think that would actually work," He giggled. "They really were easy to fool."
"After them!!"
….
"Those kids are something, huh, Stolas?" Silvando murmured, eyes following the two children as they darted away from men three times their size.
"Hoo," the owl replied.
"Indeed." He nodded with a faint smile. "Now then, how about we lend a little help and learn some information from them.
"Hoot."
With a light touch of his fingers against the rooftop, Silvando released a surge of Cryo energy that rippled outward, racing across the tiles before cascading down the walls like a living current.
Then ice swiftly formed into a towering wall of crystal separating the bandits and the siblings.
Lyney and Lynette froze for only a moment, stunned by the sudden surge of ice behind them. But they didn't waste time wondering why.
Clutching the bag of mora, they bolted down the alley, their only thought being to get as far away as possible.
Behind them, the bandits skidded to a halt, confusion spreading among them as they stared at the massive wall of ice now blocking their path.
"Quickly—everyone, weapons out!" the leader shouted, recognizing that only someone with a vision could've created such a structure.
Then he spun around, dagger raised, his six men fanning out behind him with trembling hands, and forming a defensive line.
"Gentlemen, why the hostility? I only wish to ask a few simple questions," a calm voice called out.
"Ha! You don't fool us, Vision wielder!" The leader barked, though his voice trembled.
"Oh? A Vision, you say?" The voice carried a hint of amusement. "How cute."
Silvando stepped forward into the dim light. His smile never wavered as he watched fear flicker in the eyes of the men before him.
"Who the hell are you? You're no law enforcement!" one of them snapped, his confidence rising.
"Well, of course not," Silvando replied lightly. "I'm merely a humble toymaker who happened to witness a group of hooligans robbing poor orphans."
He gave a courteous bow, lifting his hat before adding, "Not that I particularly care—but it seems you've fallen for the oldest trick in the book."
Silvando chuckled, the sound smooth and mocking, which only made a few of the bandits flush red with embarrassment.
"You!" the leader spat.
"Now, how about we handle this the old-fashioned way? Fists and all that," he said, gripping his cane with a grin. "Afterwards, we can have a nice little chat, how about it?"
Stolas gave a soft hoot in agreement.
…
"That was a pleasant chat," Silvando hummed as he stepped out of the alley, not sparing a single glance at the unconscious men behind him.
As for what he'd learned it wasn't much, but it was enough to start piecing together what kind of Archon this Furina was.
She was one who never ventured into the rundown corners of their nations, seemingly unaware that beneath her nose criminals are going unpunished.
He didn't believe she was arrogant or uncaring toward her subjects. But from what the bandits had told him, the truth was far simpler.
She likely believed her nation was running just as intended—meaning someone in the middle was cutting off the flow of information.
That was his working theory, of course but not an unreasonable one.
Because if the law enforcement here could be bought with bribes, it was only logical to assume that someone in a higher position was corrupt as well.
But did he care? Not really.
He was merely trying to piece together information on how the Archon ruled, to understand her from an outside perspective and judge whether she was clever enough to hide the Gnosis.
And judging by the state of Fontaine, he strongly suspected that she held it within herself. Yet, of course, there was only one way to be certain.
"Hoo hoo," Stolas hooted.
"You're right. Let's get something to eat," he said, rubbing his hand on his stomach, momentarily forgetting all about his meeting with the knave.
Silvando hummed softly to himself as he followed the enticing scent of food, stopping when he found himself before the luxurious Hotel Debord.
This seems like a good spot to eat, he thought before stepping inside—only to be immediately struck by the lively atmosphere.
Guests were lined up at a counter while nearby tables buzzed with conversation, and the soft clinking of glasses mingled with the hum of finely dressed nobles savoring their meals in polished elegance.
"Bonjour, monsieur. Would you like a table?" a young waitress in a red uniform asked, her polite tone tinged with curiosity as she noted his attire, distinctly different from the usuals.
"Yes," he replied with a charming smile. "I'd like to sample one of your finest dishes."
Seated in a far corner of the restaurant's second floor, Silvano leisurely enjoyed his meal, Tasses Ragout, a rich and flavorful stew that perfectly suited his taste.
"Fontaine's dishes are truly to die for," he murmured with a satisfied smile. But before he could take another taste, a familiar figure ascended the stairs.
The moment he saw that unmistakable white hair, he knew exactly who it was.