[Grand Tourney] Keep Your Distance

2. Better keep quiet and don't draw attention to them nor yourself.

Every aspect of the Grand Tourney was uncomfortable for Spite.

She despised the crowds and hated the sheer volume of their shouted conversation. She hated the sheer presence of The Order, with guards peering around every corner, always threatening to find some reason to give her a second glance. She despised being this far into Order territory, and so far from the southern jungles she had called her home for so long. If she hadn't been on prowl for possible mercenary work, she would never had ventured this far north. Thankfully, the fact that she was unknown was her only asset: no one who knew who she was well enough to sell her out to the Order guards would not date travel to Mead in the first place, so she was safe, sort of. As long as her appearance didn't draw unwanted attention, and she kept her feathered head down as best she could.

As someone used to hiding in plain sight, Spite had become skilled in spotting the skulking of others. There was a certain air to someone attempting to hide; the whites of their eyes as they glanced behind them, a certain jumpiness to their movement, an evenness to the step that only came from a forced rhythm. So, when she spotted a mage casually walking behind tents pointedly avoiding the gazes of guards, she knew it was someone on the run. She saw them from across a busy square, able to see but not able to get any closer. They were presumably a wild mage as only an enemy of the crown would feel the need to hide. Moreover, they had good reason to hide; as there were guards rounding the corner of a brightly colored tent nearby—bad news for the wild mage, and bad news for Spite.

For a moment, the cockatrice felt a need to interfere—to warn the wild mage, or at least accompany them on their skulking. Getting this far into the event showed that this enemy of the Order had skill, but also was also in great danger. Spite instinctively wanted to help, if she could.

Before she could move, though, she hesitated, and stopped where she stood.

She knew better than to trust any wild mage she ran across. The old adage said that an enemy of one's enemy was a friend, but Spite knew it wasn't true. She herself was an enemy of her former wild mage clan, and it was all too possible that this wild mage had been turned against her by the rumors of her betrayal.

Besides, Spite reminded herself, she would only attract attention.

No, it was far better for her to keep her distance. Stay low, stay unnoticed, and do not draw attention to herself or to the wild mage. Even she wanted to help, she would only get underfoot.

Besides, she told herself, trying to quiet her conscience in the back of her head. Why should she help anyone? What had this wild mage ever done for her?

So, instead of helping, Spite turned and left that square behind her, deciding instead to seek work in the taverns on the other side of town.