Jaygon watched as Eloise's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly beneath her lace shawl. "On the contrary, Inspector," she replied, her voice honey over steel, "my father has always encouraged a broad education. He believes an informed mind makes for wiser governance of estates and households alike."
"Of course," Holloway conceded smoothly, steering her toward a vendor selling exotic blooms. "I meant no offense. Look here—night orchids from the Midnight Archipelago. Their fragrance is said to inspire the most... vivid dreams." He selected a blossom of midnight blue with edges that faded to silver, presenting it to Eloise with a flourish.
She accepted it with a polite murmur of thanks, her eyes darting briefly toward Jaygon before returning to the inspector's face. Holloway didn't seem to notice the exchange, already launching into an elaborate tale of his supposed adventures in the distant archipelago.
"The native chieftains value these flowers above gold," he proclaimed, guiding Eloise deeper into the market. "I once traded a single bloom for passage through a storm-wracked strait that no other imperial vessel had successfully navigated."
Jaygon resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Having overheard sailors' stories all his life, he recognized the embellished tale for what it was—a baiting hook cast with precision toward a hoped-for catch.
They wended their way through the market for nearly an hour, the inspector pointing out various curiosities and sharing tales of increasingly dubious exploits while Eloise responded with appropriate interest. Jaygon followed dutifully, occasionally catching fragments of conversations from passing townspeople.
"...inspecting the tariff records, they say..." "...baron's daughter is quite the prize..." "...strange ships on the horizon since dawn..."
It was this last snippet, muttered between two weather-beaten fishermen, that prickled the hair on the back of Jaygon's neck. He glanced toward the harbor, but his view was blocked by the tall buildings that lined the market square.
The inspector had paused at a stall selling foreign wines, his hand resting casually at the small of Eloise's back as he conversed with the merchant. "This vintner hails from my mother's homeland," he explained, selecting a bottle with an ornate label. "Perhaps we might share a glass this evening, after—"
The harbor bell began to toll—not the measured rings that marked the hours, but an urgent, frantic clanging that cut through the market chatter like a blade. Conversations stuttered into silence as heads turned toward the sound.
"What is—" Eloise began.
The rest of her question was drowned by the first explosion.
The ground shook beneath their feet as black smoke billowed into the sky from the direction of the harbor. A second explosion followed, then a third, accompanied by the sharp crack of splintering wood and distant screams.
"Raiders!" someone shouted from the direction of the docks. "Pirates in the harbor!"
The marketplace erupted into chaos. Merchants abandoned their wares, snatching up what valuables they could carry before fleeing toward the upper town. Townspeople scattered in all directions, some rushing toward homes to gather family members, others sprinting for the relative safety of the inland hills.
Inspector Holloway's hand moved to the ornate sword at his hip, his earlier charm replaced by the alert tension of a man accustomed to danger. "We must return to the mansion immediately," he said, gripping Eloise's arm. "The royal guards will—"
"The mansion is by the harbor," Jaygon interrupted, stepping forward. "It would take us directly into their path."
The inspector's eyes narrowed at the stable hand's presumption, but before he could respond, a fresh wave of shouts erupted from the street leading to the docks. A group of armed men had appeared at the far end of the marketplace—rough-looking figures with mismatched armor and curved blades, their faces marked with tattoos in the style of the Ivory Coast pirates.
"Seven hells," the inspector muttered, pushing Eloise behind him. "They've breached the harbor defenses already."
Jaygon scanned their surroundings with quick, practiced eyes. The pirates were spreading through the marketplace, systematically looting the abandoned stalls and cutting down anyone who resisted. Their coordinated movements spoke of a disciplined force rather than the disorganized rabble most tales depicted.
"This way," Jaygon said, gesturing toward a narrow alley between a baker's shop and a silversmith's. "There's a path through the back streets that leads to the upper town."
For a moment, the inspector looked as though he might refuse on principle alone, but another explosion from the harbor—closer this time—made the decision for him. "Very well," he nodded curtly. "Lead on, coachman."
Jaygon guided them into the shadowed passage, his mind racing through the labyrinthine layout of Blackwater Bay's older quarters. Having grown up in the port town before entering service at Windcliff Manor, he knew these streets as intimately as he knew the contours of his own calloused palms.
They had scarcely gone fifty paces when the clatter of pursuit echoed behind them. Jaygon glanced back to see three pirates turning into the alley, their eyes widening with predatory interest at the sight of Eloise's fine clothing and the inspector's gleaming uniform.
"Looks like we found ourselves some quality goods, boys," growled the largest of the three, a mountain of a man with a braided beard and arms covered in faded blue tattoos. "The kind that might fetch a handsome ransom."
Inspector Holloway drew his sword in one fluid motion, the polished blade catching the dim light. "Stand behind me," he ordered Eloise, his earlier foppishness replaced by the efficient bearing of a trained fighter. "When I engage them, run ahead with the coachman."
The pirates spread out across the narrow alley, curved blades drawn and wicked grins splitting their weather-beaten faces. The tattooed leader raised his hand in a mocking salute. "Look at the pretty peacock with his fancy sword. Think you can handle real sea wolves, boy?"
"I've gutted better men than you before breakfast," Holloway replied coldly, settling into a practiced dueling stance.
The clash came with explosive violence—steel ringing against steel as the inspector met the pirates' charge with precision and skill that suggested his tales of adventure might not have been entirely fabricated. His blade danced in elaborate patterns, keeping the three attackers at bay through technical superiority rather than brute force.
"Go!" he shouted over his shoulder, parrying a vicious blow from the tattooed leader before riposting with a thrust that drew first blood.
Jaygon grabbed Eloise's arm, pulling her further down the alley as the sounds of combat echoed behind them. "This way, m'lady," he urged, guiding her around a sharp corner that momentarily took them out of sight of the skirmish.
They had scarcely gone twenty paces when two more pirates emerged from a connecting passageway ahead—younger men with lean, hungry faces and matching gold hoops in their ears. Brothers, perhaps, with the same cold eyes and predatory grins.
"Well now," said the taller of the two, twirling a curved dagger between his fingers, "what have we here?"
Jaygon pushed Eloise behind him, his eyes darting around for any makeshift weapon. There was nothing but scattered crates and empty barrels—the detritus of a service alley connecting the market to various shop storerooms.
"Please," Eloise said, her voice remarkably steady despite the circumstances, "we have nothing of value."