Chapter 2 2.Chapter 2: A Princess, a Pickpocket, and a pie to the Face

Chapter 2: A Princess, a Pickpocket, and a Pie to the Face

Mira had the smile of someone who knew how to lie convincingly and the walk of someone who had stolen something recently.

As they sat in a rickety corner booth of The Drunken Mandrake Inn, Elric couldn't help but feel both enchanted and mildly terrified. She sipped her drink delicately, but he was certain she had just palmed three spoons, a saltshaker, and possibly the bartender's sense of security.

"So," Mira said, twirling her finger around the rim of her glass, "you're a wizard?"

"I prefer the term 'freelance magical strategist.'" Elric tried to sit taller, only to knock over a candle with his elbow. His sleeve caught fire. Mira casually extinguished it with her drink.

"Impressive," she said, not bothering to hide her smirk.

"And you're... what, exactly? Thief? Spy? Traveling spoon enthusiast?"

Mira leaned closer. "Let's just say I'm between identities."

That was both mysterious and deeply unhelpful. Elric tried to read her expression, but she was far too good at the whole "seductively enigmatic rogue" thing.

"What brings you to Ivory Hollow?" she asked, as though she hadn't just stolen his purse and dignity a few hours ago.

"A prophecy," he replied.

"Oh gods," she groaned. "Not another prophecy. That's the third this week. One guy told me a talking mushroom sent him. Another was convinced his elbow was magic."

Elric brightened. "You met Gregory?"

Mira dropped her head to the table.

Meanwhile, in a castle just across the city, Prince Valen Stormhart paced the marble halls, gripping a scroll with teeth marks on it. It was a royal notice: his bride-to-be, Princess Miraleth of Thornmere, had vanished two weeks ago.

Rumors ranged from tragic kidnapping to voluntary escape. Valen's personal theory? She ran off to avoid marrying him. Which was fair, considering he once referred to her as "politely symmetrical."

"Find her," he barked to the guards. "Check every tavern, inn, soup shop, and shady alleyway. She's probably wearing something ridiculous and pretending not to be royalty."

Back at The Drunken Mandrake, Mira-Princess Miraleth herself-was currently arm-wrestling a dwarf for a piece of raspberry pie.

"I'm getting the feeling you're hiding something," Elric muttered.

Mira won the pie.

Later that evening, after several drinks, a lute-based brawl, and one particularly bad attempt by Elric to flirt using a necromancy pun ("Are you an undead? Because my heart won't stop reanimating around you."), they stumbled into a dark alley behind the inn.

Mira looked up at him. "You're not bad for a Chosen Idiot."

Elric blinked. "Thanks... I think."

"Don't get too attached. I'm not staying."

"Why?"

She hesitated. Then smiled. "Because I'd rather not get pie to the face when the bounty hunters show up."

And just like that-SPLAT-a cream pie hit Elric square between the eyes. From the shadows stepped a trio of heavily armed thugs, all bearing the sigil of the Royal Inquisition.

"There she is!" one of them yelled, pointing at Mira. "The runaway princess!"

Elric spat out whipped cream. "Wait. What?!"

Mira sighed, pulled a dagger from somewhere impressively hidden, and muttered, "You just had to follow the goat."