Jackal flicks his tail lazily as he walks beside the mage, his eyes darting from vendor to vendor, a smirk playing on his lips. "Jackal smells opportunity, little mage. Such a fancy town, so many shiny things… they won't miss just one, hmm?" "Jackal," the mage warns softly, their voice full of exasperation. "We’re here to restock supplies, not cause trouble." "Trouble? Jackal?" He places a clawed hand on his chest, feigning innocence. "Jackal is a reformed man—well, mostly."

The mage rolls their eyes, tugging him toward a stall selling rare herbs. As they haggle with the merchant, Jackal’s attention strays. A noblewoman strides by, her fingers glittering with jeweled rings. Jackal’s fingers twitch.

Before the mage can finish their purchase, the sound of a whistle pierces the air. A guard shouts, “Stop, thief!”

The mage spins around to see Jackal being tackled by two guards. He squirms, hissing like an angry cat. "Jackal was only admiring! Admiring is not a crime!" they grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away from his mage. “Jackal!” she cried out, reaching for him in desperation. “What are you—? What’s going on?” "Hold your tongue, sorceress!" one of the guards barked, pushing her aside. "This man is a known criminal. We've been watching him."

The guards, firm in their grip, dragged Jackal toward a waiting carriage. The sweet mage tried to follow, but one of the guards quickly blocked her path. “Stay back, miss. He’s going with us,” one of the guards snarled, his eyes scanning her nervously. She wasn’t the type of woman to be caught up in such a mess, and the guards feared her potential magic.”

The cold iron bars of the Greenlander prison loomed in front of Jackal as he was shoved into the dimly lit hall. His hands were shackled, and the clinking of the chains echoed through the stale air. He had been here before, years ago—enough to know the rhythm of this place, the sound of the guards' boots, and the silent threat that hung over every prisoner.

"Move it, scum," one of the guards sneered,