"May the light of Lathander keep you safe in your travels!"

Dammit. Her again.

Diath Woodrow rolled his eyes as he hurried past the paladin, who was enthusiastically blessing the backs of two merchants pointedly ignoring her on their way out of town.

This overly-chipper woman had arrived here a few days ago, same as Diath, and her constant blessings ringing out in this small burg had grated on his nerves ever since. Even cheerful preaching was still preaching. She never left her position near the town’s entrance, would strike up conversations with practically every passerby that crossed her path, and seemed to be incapable of finishing a sentence without “Lathander” this or “Morning Lord” that.

He had been successful so far in avoiding direct contact with her, but he knew his good luck could run out at any moment. Whatever business she needed to accomplish here, Diath hoped it would be finished. Soon. Or, even better, his own; he was supposed to meet one of his contacts here to investigate the rumor of a treasure supposedly hidden somewhere nearby, but the man still hadn’t shown. Diath was giving him one last chance to show his face in town today before he wrote off his stay here as a loss and moved on.

Today was market day, or what passed for one in this backwater. In the square there were less than ten stalls set up in a crooked circle, only half-filled with food. The crowds had begun to gather, and Diath joined in, though it was more to kill time and search for his contact than to buy anything.

Merchants were setting up faded awnings to shield their fruits and vegetables from the bright morning sun. Townspeople were exchanging curt small talk about the weather and halfheartedly poking around the stalls. A lone watchman off to the side was lazily chewing a piece of bread. But yet again, Diath’s contact was nowhere to be seen.

The sound of wood scraping against stone caught Diath’s ear. A small gaunt beggar child was pushing his empty bowl to the side and slowly getting up from the ground in an awkward parody of stealth. The boy’s eyes were nervously darting in a triangle between the fishmonger’s stall in front of him, the fishmonger distracted by an orange tabby meowing loudly at her feet, and the watchman.

The sound of a coin hitting the bowl he had abandoned caused the child to whip around in surprise, but Diath had already disappeared into the crowd. The rogue didn’t need to look behind him to see if he had successfully dissuaded the boy from stealing; he could hear the child and the fishmonger start to haggle about price. His own stomach was beginning to growl though, and he pressed on, looking to buy a decent piece of fruit for his breakfast.

But as he scanned one of the carts for a healthy-looking apple, he quickly became aware of a presence to his right, a man that had suddenly become very interested in the same apple cart. The stranger was pale and dressed in black, out-of-place amongst the sunburnt farmers and drab merchants. He was bargaining with the apple seller in front of them, when Diath felt the man bump into him.

Reflexively, Diath’s right hand shot out and grabbed the man’s wrist. What a joke; this pickpocketing jackass couldn’t fit the stereotype any harder if he tried. Despite his occupation, Diath at least prided himself on being a treasure hunter; this rogue was nothing more than a common--

“Thief!”

The shocked screech from the apple seller startled Diath out of his thoughts to find not his own meager purse in the rogue’s hand, but a fat one filled with coin.

Chaos erupted. Heads whipped around to the source of the shouting. Accusing glares latched onto him. The rogue flashed him with a crooked grin dripping with smug triumph before he melted back into the crowd. Before he could disengage from the crowd to go after the bastard, two pairs of rough hands wrenched Diath’s arms behind his back and wheeled him away from the apple cart with such force that the purse flew from his hand. Gold coins scattered onto the ground in all directions, causing people to dive underfoot and scramble over each other to grab them.

The commotion drew more and more people to the square, and within moments the market had turned into a mob scene. Diath locked eyes with the watchman from afar, who he was hoping would step in and reestablish order; a stay in a prison cell wasn’t ideal, but it was far safer than his current predicament. But the watchman, who only minutes before had looked bored out of his mind, made no move to extricate him from the situation, content instead to watch the show.

Diath felt his cheeks burn with indignant humiliation. He could normally keep his cool, but being tricked and trapped like this by an angry mob falsely accusing him of something he would never do no matter how bad his circumstances made him lose his temper. His own frustrated shouts of innocence were overwhelmed by the mob jeering back at him and screaming for his head.

The stench of rotting food hit his nostrils before his chest. But what caused his green eyes to go wide was not the overripe tomatoes spattering against his shirt, but a stone the size of his fist landing just shy of his left leg. Trying not to panic but failing, he began to struggle against the men preventing his escape. His two captors yelled for help as Diath vigorously tried to twist out of their hands. Two more men ran over to grab his shoulders and hold him still as a furious woman wound her arm up to launch another stone right at his head--

“EXCUSE ME!”

That unmistakably familiar voice, polite but stern and loud enough to be heard over the din, stopped everyone dead in their tracks. Diath looked up to see the paladin standing--no, floating--in front of him just above the crowd. She held aloft the rogue that had started this whole mess, squirming against the manacles that pinned his arms behind him.

Now that they were listening, she addressed the crowd. “Thank you. My goodness, I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past three minutes! Now, excuse me everyone, but you have the wrong man.”

The man clutching Diath’s left arm, an overweight blacksmith, challenged her. “Where’s your proof, woman?”

Wordlessly and with no effort, she turned the rogue upside down. His squawks of alarm were then followed by the sound of multiple purses of varying shapes and colors spilling onto the uneven cobblestones.

The mob wanted to rev up again, this time to go after the real culprit, but no one was eager to stand up to a woman with a large battleaxe strapped to her back. She quickly floated back down to the ground and handed the rogue over to the watchman’s custody, but not before shaking her index finger at both men like a mother scolding her mischievous sons. “You should know better than to steal, and you sir, you should pay more attention to your responsibilities. Mobs are ugly things. People could have gotten hurt here today.”

The woman who was ready to stone Diath sullenly dropped her missile and walked off, and the four men holding him reluctantly shoved their prisoner away from them before joining in with the dispersing crowd. Diath stumbled but easily regained his balance, avoiding a collision with the paladin running over to assist him.

“Are you okay?” She was looking him up and down and gasped at the dark stain on his blue tunic. “Oh my, you’re bleeding!”

She raised her hands to perform a healing spell, but Diath waved the offer away. “Nope, I’m fine, that’s just tomato. The only thing they hurt was my pride.”

He paused awkwardly, blushing slightly. The person he had been actively avoiding for days had just saved his life. “Uh, thank you. For, uh, what you did, Lady…?”

“Evelyn Marthain, but don’t you fret about any ladyships. You can just call me Evelyn.”

She then cheerfully stuck out her hand. He accepted her handshake, impressed by her easy strength. “Diath, Diath Woodrow. But how did you know I wasn’t the thief?”

She winked at him knowingly and smiled, making her sweet face look even more cherubic. “The thieves I’ve run into aren’t really the type to give to those less fortunate. Besides, I see the good in you. The light of Lathander--”

Oh boy, here we go. Diath quickly changed the subject. “So, what brings you here, Evelyn?”

Her bright expression suddenly clouded over. “Well, I was supposed to meet a friend of mine here three days ago, but she hasn’t shown up, and it’s not like her to be late for anything. I’m getting a bit worried.”

Diath’s brow furrowed in concern. “My contact hasn’t shown up either. Something must have happened to them.”

Evelyn pondered aloud. “I’ve heard talk of some sort of treasure around these parts, but my friend’s not the type to chase after rumors.”

Casting his mind’s eye back to the pale rogue, Diath shook his head decisively. “I don’t think it’s mere rumor. That thief framed me for a reason. He knew me somehow...and he wanted me out of the way.”

The gurgling of his stomach interrupted his train of thought. He realized he never managed to buy that apple, and he obviously had no desire to go back to the market. Though the crowds now gave him a wide berth, they still cast hard, suspicious stares at the two strangers.

Diath was beyond done with this godforsaken town, but not with the questions that had presented themselves. Maybe they could work together to get some answers. “I saw an inn on my way here, about an hour’s walk. We could plan our next move there...that is, if you would want to accompany me?”

The concern in her face melted away, replaced by the joy of making a new friend. “I would love to, Diath!”

The rogue and the paladin walked side-by-side through the town gate and down the road, Evelyn once again chattering about Lathander and Diath semi-patiently nodding his head any time she paused for breath. To his surprise, he found himself not minding her company as much as he thought he would. He was even looking forward to sharing a late breakfast with her; he suddenly had a craving for waffles.