Pain bloomed in my shoulder as I fluffed my landing. I had years of experience reducing the impact of a jump via a tumble, and when we planned this exit, I had thought it wouldn't be much of an issue. Reality had proved me wrong.
The train's speed, my battered body, and the lingering effects of Alicia's spell turned what should've been a graceful tumble into something more like a drunk getting thrown out of a tavern. And much like a drunk, I was pretty sure I'd be waking up tomorrow wondering what hit me.
My shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact, but my face wasn't one to be left out. Gravel scraped across my cheek as I skidded along the bridge, slowing me down one jagged scrape at a time. When I finally stopped moving, I lay there for a moment, just… appreciating the fact that nothing had pierced my mouth.
Small wins.
I spat out a pebble and turned to look at the retreating train.
Alicia stood in the doorway, glaring at me like she was trying to explode my head with her mind. Given that she was a mage, that possibility didn't feel entirely off the table. I panicked for a moment, thinking this was the end of the line but thankfully, my head remained intact, and her figure grew smaller with every second.
"Brandon!" I heard Morgana call out.
I twisted around to see her and Dillon running up the tracks. Both looked a little roughed up, but they were moving fine. They also still had the bags. Relief washed over me.
We'd actually done it.
We'd boarded a train filled with the heirs of the realm, picked a fight with half of them, robbed the others blind, and jumped off without getting caught.
Legends would be told of this night.
I tried to grin, but the ache in my face shut that down fast. So I settled for a crooked smirk and pushed myself to my feet.
"We did it!" I said, my voice hoarse but proud.
"We did," Morgana grinned, throwing her arms around me in a hug.
I allowed myself to enjoy it for a moment before the pain got too much and I pushed her away.
"Ow. Sorry. I'm a bit banged up."
"A bit? You look like you've… well, like you've jumped from a moving train," Dillon laughed.
"Ha! I feel it as well," I winced. "How are you two?"
"We're fine," he replied. "We managed to jump just before our carriage hit the bridge, so it wasn't as bad.
"We should get going. I think people have noticed us already," Morgana said, glancing around.
"Marky said the train conductors would be able to communicate with the authorities and after the mess we kicked up, I'll wager they're on their way already," I said.
Despite the train-flavoured beating I'd just endured, my legs were… reasonably okay.
And by "reasonably," I mean I could still walk on them without crying. I was fairly certain that once I took off my trousers, I'd find bruises the size of dinner plates. Then again, that was probably true of most of my body.
Still, silver lining: with the haul we'd just made, I could actually afford the fancy meds. Ones that probably didn't taste like burnt herbs and pond water.
"Which way do we need to go?" Morgana asked.
"East," I said, brushing gravel off my sleeve. "Marky said there's an artisan's neighbourhood that way. We're looking for a house with a jade statue out front. That's where we'll find his guy."
"We'll need to do something about our appearance," Morgana said, looking me up and down.
"Right. Do you still have the spare clothes?" We had packed back up outfits for this purpose.
"Yeah but we need somewhere to change, and water to wash our faces," She said as she looked me up and down.
I looked at her and Dillon. They didn't look too bad but did have a bit of grime on their face that might make them stand out on this side of the city. I doubted the locals let their kids get this dirty, they probably had maids swatting the dirt off them before it could even settle.
"We also need to bandage your face," she added, using her fingers to turn my face into the light.
"Ouch," Dillon said with a grimace. "I didn't realise how bad that was. You barely have a cheek left. You need to get that covered before it gets infected."
I reached up to touch it but Morgana quickly knocked my hand away.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" She snapped. "Don't poke your dirty fingers into the open wound. Did you learn anything in Mistress Maggie's class?"
Ah. Mistress Maggie.
She taught Health Studies at Turnstone Academy. It was actually one of the few mandatory classes. She covered everything from bandaging cuts, treating infections, curing coughs… and preventing unwanted pregnancies.
The sex stuff was always awkward, especially when she made us sit through the girl-focused lessons too. Said it was everyone's business to know everyone's business. Apparently, that extended to knowing how to properly prepare "woman's time" products too.
Still, she was good at her job. A bit terrifying, but thorough.
If she'd caught me trying to touch my cheek with unwashed hands, she probably would've flung me into the gorge herself.
Then again, if we made it home in one piece, I'd be paying her a visit. With any luck, she'd know how to heal it properly. She might even be able to do it without leaving a scar.
Thinking of her made me remember our last class, where she'd gone on a long, mildly traumatising rant about oral hygiene. Said we had to brush our teeth like our lives depended on it.
"They fall out," she'd growled, "and bacteria gets into your bloodstream, and then you die."
Her words. Not mine.
My teeth felt furry now, a full day's grime coating them. I made a silent vow to sort that out the moment we got back. Especially if I was going to ask her for help. Mistress Maggie was scary enough on a good day. I definitely didn't need her chewing me out for dirty teeth and a torn-up face.
"Please don't tell her I did that. I think she'd kill me."
"Think? She would take your head off," Dillon scoffed.
"She would also kill us if we don't get it sorted soon," Morgana muttered, looking around, "Let's get out of here and sort it before the guards arrive."
We moved back down the railway and away from the bridge. There were already people looking at us so I nudged the others and made for a nearby alley. It gave us a sliver of cover, but I knew it wasn't far enough. We were still too close to where we'd last been seen.
The real problem was, this wasn't our turf. Back home, we could vanish down a dozen different cuts and crawlspaces without thinking. Here? The alleys were too clean, too exposed, and too well-kept. No garbage heaps to hide behind, no broken fences to slip through. Every path looked like it had been freshly swept and memorised by patrols.
Although I could see some that we could no doubt go down, I worried they were all too obvious and that if we tried to lose our pursuers down them, they would easily be able to track us down. This was their territory and they would no doubt have the upper hand. After all, you always knew the shortcuts in your own home.
If we tried to shake pursuit here, they'd track us in minutes
"I think we need to jump a fence or two," I proposed.
Dillon raised an eyebrow. "Do you not think that's a bit risky?"
I shook my head. "Not as risky as sticking to the roads. People will already have pointed the guards this way. And there's only a couple of obvious exits. We need to mix it up."
He gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, let's hop over some fences. Are you gonna be okay Morgana?"
Morgana was still carrying one of the big bags. "Sorry, I forgot you were still carrying that. Let me take it."
"It's okay," she said, her voice tight. "It's heavy but I should be able to manage for a bit longer. Besides, you're injured."
"Adrenaline's doing most of the work," I said, giving her a half-smile. Still, I reached out and relieved her of the bag. She didn't argue this time.
"We'll head into that next alley," I said pointing to one towards the east. "From there, we'll climb over one of the walls and skip across the garden."
The area we were currently in was full of medium sized houses with trim hedges and modest but neat gardens. I would have guessed at least four bedrooms, and some family rooms. It was the sort of area that screamed comfortably boring, not rich enough for guards or magical wards, but wealthy enough to leave shiny things lying around.
These sort of places were the bread and butter for some of the crooks I knew. Said they were soft targets with decent loot and low risk. They were often lax with their security but had plenty of valuables lying about.
It wasn't really our sort of thing though. Not that we hadn't broken into people's homes because of course we had. It was just that they felt too much like a family we might know. They were living that middle class life most strived for, and it felt wrong to set them back knowing they couldn't easily replace what we would steal.
Of course these people could still fall foul of our pickpocketing or rare scams, but anything we took in those was fair game as far I was concerned. Yeah, we would be sneaky and sly but they should be smart enough to stop us. It wasn't like breaking into a house where they couldn't be on guard all the time. You should always be watching your pockets.
We jumped a picket fence and landed in a vegetable patch. Something crunched under my foot– probably a cabbage or a lettuce or… something else green. I winced, but kept moving. It'd grow back. Unlike me, if the guards caught up.
From there, we traversed our way across four more gardens before we came across one with a fish pond. I hadn't seen many fish ponds before but when I did, they were usually to store fish for eating. This one looked more like a decorative feature, and had a miniature bridge across the middle. It was breathtaking.
Morgana was cooing over how cute the fish were, and since we needed water anyway, I suggested we clean up here. Thankfully, the garden offered some decent cover because there was a row of thick bushes behind a black wooden bench that shielded us from the house. I sank onto the bench while Morgana and Dillon knelt by the pond, their reflections rippling in the water.
Curiously, the fish didn't seem scared. A few of them even swam up when Morgana dipped her fingers in, brushing against her skin like they wanted to play.
I could see why the owner had set up this little retreat. Sitting here felt like we were in a world apart. It was quiet, hidden, untouched by the chaos we were used to. A perfect place to end a hard day and unwind. Already my body was starting to relax as I watched my friends play with the fishes. That was a problem though because I was starting to feel the pain in my face.
"Do we have any bandages?" I asked, breaching the tranquillity.
"There should be some in this bag, I'll get them for you now," Dillon said as he rooted around in his bag.
Morgana filled a waterskin and brought it over to me. "There's a cloth in here we can use to clean you up. Sit still, I'll take care of it."
She pulled out a simple white rag. It was nothing fancy, but it would do the job. I braced myself as she poured water over it and dabbed it onto my cheek. It didn't exactly hurt, but it definitely wasn't pleasant.
"Hold still silly," she said with a smirk as I winced, brushing her thumb just beneath the uninjured side of my face.
Her hand was warm. And somehow, that single point of contact lit a fuse through my entire body. Each tiny connection between our skin buzzed with a strange electricity. I was suddenly very aware of how close she was. Her dark eyes focused, her raven-black hair tucked behind one ear, the subtle curve of her mouth as she concentrated. She looked… unreal. Like something sacred I shouldn't even be allowed to sit beside.
She glanced up and smiled, then returned to tending the wound.
My heart was doing backflips. I had fought off half a train full of rich brats and oathsworn fighters. None of them made my pulse jump like this. I swallowed, suddenly parched.
She didn't seem real. It felt like I was gazing upon some higher creation. How could I dare to be in her presence? Never mind being worthy of her touch.
She tilted my chin slightly to get a better angle, and I didn't resist. I couldn't. In that moment, she could've asked for my name, my soul, my entire future—and I would've handed it over like spare change.
"There," she said softly, reaching for the bandages Dillon had found. "I'll tie this above your top lip, so you'll still be able to talk."
That broke the spell. A little.
Bandaging a cheek was awkward. You had to wrap around the head, and it always risked covering a mouth, eye, or nose. We'd practised it in Mistress Maggie's class—one of her more serious lessons. Head wounds, she'd told us, were dangerous. Let an infection creep in near the brain, and you might as well start writing your will.
Morgana handed me a piece of folded cloth. "Hold this in place."
I pressed it gently to the wound while she wrapped the bandage around my head, across my cheek and over my upper lip, careful not to muffle me completely. Two clean loops. A quick knot behind my head.
Once she was done, she turned my face from side to side, inspecting it like a sculptor checking the final lines on her work. The pressure felt even, not too tight.
"It'll hold," she said, satisfied.
"Good," I replied. My voice was a little muffled, but I'd manage. "Alright, now that I'm sorted you go get washed up. I'll keep watch."
While Morgana had been playing nurse, Dillon kept an eye out for trouble. Standard procedure. We'd learned the hard way that letting your guard down only ever led to nasty surprises. I'm not saying we were perfect – we'd been caught more times than I liked to admit – but we'd learned to stay cautious. Paranoia had its perks really.
I stood up from the bench, limbs groaning in protest. Now that the adrenaline had drained from my system, the full weight of exhaustion settled over me. And I knew if I sat still too long, I might never get up again.
The garden really was something special. The longer I spent here, the more it felt like stepping into a different world. It wasn't just the fishpond or the rows of manicured hedges, there were trees I didn't even recognize. Different species, shapes, colours.
I couldn't claim to be any sort of expert when it came to dendrology but even I could tell some of the trees were not from Radan. Which got me thinking about where they were actually from.
I didn't know much about trees – dendrology wasn't exactly part of the Turnstone curriculum – but I could tell some of these weren't native to Radan. One, with delicate pink leaves shaped like tiny trees themselves, looked almost magical. Were those even leaves? Or seeds? Or were they miniature trees in their own right?
Another caught my attention with its deep blue bark. I couldn't recall ever hearing about blue trees. Maybe it was something rich people had access to. Or maybe they dyed them, the same way they dyed their dogs and their hair.
I caught myself drifting and gave my arm a sharp pinch. Getting distracted now, of all times, would be a disaster. I wasn't about to let our cover get blown because I was daydreaming about upper-class gardening trends.
Stepping over to the edge of the bushes, I peeked toward the house.
Like the garden, the home was beautiful. The walls were stone with light red mortar, giving it a kind of rustic mosaic feel. Green-painted wind covers adorned the windows, and the back door shared the same colour scheme. Whoever lived here clearly took pride in their home. I couldn't help but imagine myself owning something like this one day. A peaceful little escape, tucked away behind ivy and trees.
More importantly, the house looked empty.
Morgana and Dillon were nearly done freshening up, so my thoughts turned to our next move. We could keep fence-hopping, but we were far enough out now that it might not be necessary.
"I think we just walk out through the front," I said.
Dillon looked skeptical. "That seems risky. What if we're seen?"
"It doesn't look like anyone's home, and honestly, we'll probably stand out more if we keep sneaking around. We've been lucky so far, but the fewer eyes we attract, the better. If we act normal – calm and casual – then I think we'll be fine."
"We're going the confidence route, then?" Morgana asked, flicking water from her fingers.
"Yeah, why not? It's not like the guards will go door-to-door anyway."
The confidence route was our term for when we strolled into places like we belonged there. If you looked like you were meant to be somewhere, most people wouldn't question it. Sure, they might raise an eyebrow, maybe bring it up later, but they rarely stopped you. It wasn't foolproof but it had worked more times than it hadn't.
"Okay, but change your clothes first," Morgana said, tossing me a bundle of fabric.
They were nicer than the clothes we'd worn on the train. Intentionally so. The plan had always been to blend in after the heist. If we hadn't made it aboard in the first place, no harm done and we could walk away clean. But getting caught afterward? That would've been a lot worse.