Chapter Text
Scarlett was shadowing a rich merchant whom she was about to relieve of a considerable part of his fortune. She sat in a street café, her red mane tucked under her hat, and watched as the man carelessly placed his suitcase with the money he was carrying to buy relics under the coffee table.
At first she had thought about selling him some of the worthless junk she had brought back from the seventh level of the buried city.
But half an hour's observation had been enough to convince her that she could simply take the suitcase off his hands.
She was just about to get up and approach her victim inconspicuously when she heard laugther and froze.
A group of girls approached the table between her and the merchant and sat down. They were about her age, even if it didn't seem like it at first glance.
Their hair was combed, their faces soft and their clothes clean. Completely carefree, they chatted about what they had done today, which shops they wanted to visit and which play they were going to see tonight.
Scarlett's face was covered in scars that were hidden by a layer of dirt. Her brow was constantly furrowed, her hair looked like a birds nest underneath her hat and it had been a while since she had seen a bathtub.
Suddenly she felt inadequate.
Of course she knew that it was nonesense. None of these girls could do what she was capable of. She was the only girl the Brotherhood of the Hand had ever taken in, and for good reason.
Still, she felt a sharp sting in her chest when looking at these girls, sitting at their table together, smiling like, nothing in this world could ever bring them down. Towns folk! That was why she despised them!
But deep down she knew that this was not about the towns. These girls had choosen to be born into a town as she had choosen her destiny. She longed for something they had.
Scarlett shook her head. Now was not the time to be distracted.
She sneaked past them and with a skilful movement she grabbed the suitcase just as the merchant was stirring milk into a cup of tea.