Percy stood near a lamppost, leaning over it slightly as he took out his pouch and glanced at the silver crowns inside.
His lips formed an upward arc he couldn't quite stop.
"I'm rich."
He closed the pouch quickly and tucked it back away. Then his hand brushed against his coat pocket , where there was the revolver. He shifted it slightly and pulled out the Lemon next.
"Hm. Forgot to give this back to Lyro."
He shrugged and put it back into his holster, which had a bit of room left, so he tucked the pouch in alongside it for safekeeping.
He made his way toward the main road. His stomach growled, louder this time, enough that he winced and clutched at it.
"Can't make it home today."
He decided to look for a tavern with rooms instead.
After walking for a while he came across one, the sign above the door reading TAVERN WITH INN in faded paint. He stepped inside and ordered food straight away. The place was quiet, only a handful of patrons scattered across the tables.
He waved the owner over once his plate arrived. "Can I get a key to a room?"
The owner smiled and handed one over. Percy looked at it.
"Same room as before."
He ate his fill, burped once without much shame, and washed it down with a bit of wine. Satisfied, he made his way toward the stairs.
A figure near the corner caught his attention cloaked, back turned to him.
"Strange."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't think much further on it, climbing the stairs instead. Once upstairs he flopped straight onto the bed, though some reflex made his head pop back up to check under the table.
Nothing there.
He let his head fall back down and was asleep within minutes.
---
Downstairs, the cloaked figure turned slightly as the person sitting across from them spoke.
"Should we do it tonight?"
The figure looked at them and nodded.
The man across from her shifted, and his hood slipped down at an awkward angle, revealing his face.
A nearby patron , who was clearly drunk, swaying slightly in his seat spotted him and raised a hand in greeting.
"Hey "hic" Harris! Long time, man!"
Harris frowned for half a second before forcing an awkward smile. "Yeah. It has been."
The drunk man squinted toward the cloaked woman beside him, trying to make out her face, but gave up and turned his attention back to Harris instead.
"What's with the getup? You trying to stay low or something?" He laughed, the sound too loud for the quiet room.
Harris stood slowly. "Good talking to you, man. I've got something to take care of."
The cloaked woman dropped a few coins on the table for the owner and made her way toward the door. Harris followed.
Before he reached it, the drunk man called after him.
"Hey don't dwell on her death too long. Not your fault. That's just life."
Harris stopped.
His fist clenched at his side. He turned halfway, gave a short nod.
"Thank you."
Then he walked out. The cloaked woman looked at him as he came out.
"Don't waver."
Harris nodded, his tense expression smoothing over as he pulled his hood back up. The woman led the way, turning into the alley at the corner where another man stood waiting, wearing the same kind of hood.
"How's it going?" she asked.
"Twelve more to go," the man said simply, handing over three metal boxes.
He said nothing further. His outline went hazy almost immediately, flickering at the edges, and with a flick of his fingers his silhouette dissolved into the corner shadows, nearly gone before it vanished entirely.
The woman opened one of the boxes. A red glow pulsed faintly from inside , a finger lay in it.
She closed it again without a word.
Harris followed her further down the alley.
---
At the tavern, Percy stood in a space that was entirely white.
White in every direction, no edges, no walls he could see. He took a step and heard a wet sound beneath him. Looking down, he saw the floor was damp , it wasn't much as a thin spread of liquid that hadn't quite reached his toes.
He looked at himself.
He was naked.
Strangely, it didn't bother him. It felt natural somehow. He could not even feel that he was naked unless he saw himself.
He turned, searching the white for anything else, and found a black dot far in the distance. He squinted. A tall figure. Wearing a suit.
He tried to walk toward it slowly and cautiously but.
He couldn't move. His feet stayed planted as though something invisible stood between them, a wall with no shape.
He tried calling on his Oath. Nothing answered.
"Where am I?"
No answer came to that either.
The figure suddenly shifted one step forward, then stopped, as if it too had hit the same invisible wall from its side.
Percy frowned and stepped back instead.
"Who is that?"
His eyes snapped open.
A familiar ceiling stretched above him. He sat up fast, looking around, and found himself still in the room at the inn.
He sat up, glanced at the table once more, then pulled out his pocket watch.
Very late. Almost morning.
A sensation pulled at him before he could even process the time.
"Oh, shit. Not again."
He started toward the bed , his knee hitting it which made him stop and stood there for twenty seconds before he regained his consciousness.
"What's going on. How am I running into this many Haunted lately?"
Sweat trickled down his forehead. Another sensation rolled through him almost immediately after, different this time.
"Another Anchor."
He tried to pin down the direction, but it vanished within two seconds, gone before he could even turn toward it properly.
He glanced at his coat hanging by the door, crossed the room, and pulled the revolver from the pocket. He set it on the table within reach.
Then he lay back down, staying awake for a while, listening to nothing in particular, before sleep finally pulled him under again.