Chapter 100: Circus

The dense leaves blocked out the direct glare of the afternoon sun, filtering the light into a soothing, emerald-green twilight.

Sir Lucas pulled out his silver pocket watch, clicking the latch open with his thumb.

"Time check," Lucas muttered. "Four o’clock. We have exactly two hours before the Archduke expects us back at the carriage perimeter. We should begin a slow retreat toward the encampment."

Seraphina paused mid-chew.

Two hours.

That was an eternity in a toddler’s time book, and a lifetime in the market-time.

"But we haven’t seen the end of the street yet!" Seraphina protested, looking up at the scarred commander with wide, pleading dark eyes. "Sir Gallahan promised we could look at the alchemical glowing bugs! And I haven’t bought Papa a souvenir yet. If I don’t bring him a souvenir, he’s going to brood!"

Gallahan winced, compromised by the mention of the Duke’s brooding. "She has a point, Lucas. If we return two hours early, His Grace will assume we encountered a threat and panicked. It will reflect poorly on our operational confidence. And he truly does need a souvenir. Perhaps a nice, soothing botanical tea to lower his blood pressure?"

"I am not giving the Archduke of the North a bag of jungle leaves," Lucas deadpanned.

As they paused to debate their tactical retreat, a sudden, booming voice echoed over the din of the haggling merchants.

"GATHER ’ROUND! GATHER ’ROUND, CHILDREN OF ALL AGES!"

The voice was magically amplified, carrying a charismatic, almost hypnotic, booming resonance that instantly cut through the noise of the market.

Seraphina turned her head.

Less than fifty yards away, situated in a wide clearing between two massive, moss-covered stone temples, stood a colossal circus tent.

It was an explosion of garish, mesmerizing colors, deep violet and violently bright gold stripes twisting up toward a massive central spire topped with a fluttering pennant.

Standing on a wooden crate outside the entrance was a man wearing a top hat adorned with a peacock feather, shouting into a brass cone.

"THE MARVELS OF THE EAST! THE MYSTERIES OF THE WEST! FOR ONE AFTERNOON ONLY, THE GRAND ILLUSORIUM OPENS ITS DOORS! FREE ENTRY FOR ALL CHILDREN AND THEIR GUARDIANS! WITNESS MAGIC THAT DEFIES THE VERY GODS THEMSELVES! THE SHOW BEGINS IN FIVE MINUTES!"

Seraphina’s eyes widened.

A circus.

A free, high-fantasy circus!

She immediately dropped her half-eaten dragon-fruit, grabbed Sir Boris’s burlap-clad leg, and began to tug with all her might.

"Circus!" Seraphina squeaked, pointing frantically. "Sir Boris! Sir Lucas! Sir Gally! It’s a circus! And it’s free! We have to go! We have two whole hours!"

The three knights looked at the massive, garish tent.

The military, tactical side of their brains, the side meticulously programmed by Duke Kaelus von Nacht, immediately threw up red flags.

’Free entry. Large crowds. Enclosed space. Unverifiable sightlines. It’s an absolute security nightmare,’ Lucas’s internal monologue rattled off the dangers.

"Absolutely not," Lucas said firmly, crossing his arms. "The Duke’s orders were explicit. We do not enter enclosed, unvetted structures. We stay in the open where we have sightlines."

"But Sir Lucas," Seraphina whined, deploying the lower-lip quiver. "It’s a circus. It’s full of kids! Look!"

She pointed toward the entrance.

Indeed, dozens of local families, merchants, and even a few off-duty mercenaries were filtering into the tent, dragging excited, laughing toddlers and children by the hand.

It wasn’t a shadowy tavern; it was a loud, public, highly populated family event.

Sir Boris scratched his thick beard, his single eye looking at the happy children. "It does appear to be a civilian entertainment venue, Commander. The threat level of a juggling troupe is statistically low."

"And consider the cultural exposure," Gallahan chimed in, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially. "The Lady has spent her entire life in a dreary orphanage. She has never seen a proper illusionist show. If we deny her this, are we not just extending her emotional repression? We are the Black Bastion. We have slain Archdemons. Are we truly going to cower in fear of a man pulling a rabbit out of a hat?"

It was the fatal flaw of the apex predator.

Overconfidence.

They were the three most lethal knights on the continent.

They had torn an underground city apart two days ago.

They were currently incognito, surrounded by happy, mundane civilians.

What possible threat could a colorful circus tent hold that three Grandmaster-tier warriors couldn’t instantly decapitate?

Lucas looked at the tent.

He looked at Boris’s war hammer, concealed beneath a burlap cloak but ready to strike.

He looked at Gallahan’s glowing golden eyes.

Finally, he looked down at Seraphina, who was vibrating with an infectious, childish joy.

He imagined returning to the carriage, having to look Kaelus in the eye, and reporting that the Vanguard was too frightened of clowns to let the child have fun.

The pride of the North won out over the paranoia of the Reaper.

"One hour," Lucas sighed, rubbing his scarred face in defeat. "We go in, but we’ll stand near the rear exit. We watch the show, buy her a glowing stick, and get out of there immediately. If a single performer breathes in our direction, Boris, you smash the central support pillar, and we bring the tent down."

"Understood!" Boris grinned, cracking his massive knuckles.

"Yay! Operation Inflitrating the Circus!" Seraphina cheered, grabbing Gallahan and Lucas by their hands and practically dragging the two massive killers toward the entrance.

.

.

.

The moment they crossed the threshold of the tent, Seraphina’s instincts experienced an uncomfortable jolt.

The interior of the tent was impossibly large.

It was a classic application of high-tier spatial expansion magic, the kind that cost a small fortune to maintain.

From the outside, the tent looked large enough to hold perhaps a hundred people.

Inside, it was a cavernous amphitheater capable of seating a thousand.

The seating consisted of tiered wooden bleachers rising in a circular ring around a massive, sand-covered center stage.

The air was overwhelmingly thick, smelling of cloying, heavy incense, sandalwood, crushed lotus, and something sharp and metallic that smelled distinctly like ozone.