I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Zafron observed the interaction closely, his protective instincts on high alert. He could see the discomfort in Matilda's posture, the slight stiffness in her smile. 'What's the story here? He's looking at her like a cat eyeing a particularly juicy canary.'

Instinctively, Zafron moved closer to Matilda, ready to intervene if necessary. However, he felt a sharp pinch on his arm. Glancing down, he saw Matilda's hand quickly retreating. Her eyes met his briefly, conveying a clear message: 'I've got this.'

Zafron relaxed slightly, but remained vigilant. 'Alright, Matilda. I'll let you handle this, but if he tries anything, I'm not going to spare testing my improved stats on his sorry ass .'

Matilda maintained her composure, engaging in polite conversation with Malachi despite her evident discomfort. Mara, sensing the tension, attempted to steer the conversation towards lighter topics.

"So, Malachi, that's the name right?" Mara interjected, she didn't know Malachi just as zafron didn't but she could clearly see Matilda was uncomfortable just as Zafron did and she couldn't stand by and watch her mate get harassed.

"what's your favorite part of the festival?" She asked Malachi who she now has his full attention.

Malachi's gaze flickered to Mara for a moment before returning to Matilda. "Oh, I enjoy it all. The music, the dance... the company." His eyes lingered on Matilda as he spoke the last words.

'Subtle as a rampaging bull,' Zafron thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, Malachi finally took his leave, melting back into the crowd with a final, lingering look at Matilda.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Matilda let out a long breath. "Well, that was... unexpected."

Mara looked at her friend with concern. "Are you alright? He seemed rather... intense."

Matilda nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Let's not let this dampen our spirits. Come on, the dance-off is about to start!"

As they made their way towards the stage, Zafron's mind was racing. 'There's definitely a history there. But what kind? And why does it make Matilda so uncomfortable?'

His musings were interrupted as they reached the edge of a large clearing. A circle had formed in the crowd, and in the center, two dancers were engaged in a spectacular display of skill and artistry.

The dancers moved with breathtaking grace and athleticism, their bodies twisting and turning in perfect harmony with the music. One performer executed a series of spins so fast that they became a blur of color, while their opponent responded with a gravity-defying leap that had the crowd gasping in awe.

Matilda's earlier discomfort seemed to melt away as she watched the performance, her eyes shining with excitement. "Isn't it amazing? The dancers train for months for this competition."

Zafron had to admit, it was impressive. 'I wonder if these skills would be useful in a fight. Spin-kick your way out of danger, perhaps?'

As the night wore on, the festival's energy showed no signs of waning. The trio found themselves swept up in the celebrations, joining in group dances and sampling delicious street food.

Despite his initial reluctance, Zafron found himself enjoying the festivities. The joy on Mara and Matilda's faces was infectious, and he couldn't help but be moved by the sense of community and celebration that permeated the air.

As the festival continued in full swing, two men wove their way through the crowd, each holding a sizeable portion of roasted lamb on a skewer. The first, a burly fellow with a wild, unkempt beard and a scar running across his left eyebrow, took a large bite of his meat, grease dribbling down his chin.

"Oi, Ratface," he mumbled through a mouthful of food, addressing his companion, "this lamb's better than me mum's cookin', and that's sayin' somethin'."

Ratface, a wiry man with a prominent nose that earned him his unfortunate nickname, nodded in agreement. "Right you are, Brutus. Almost makes me forget we're supposed to be workin'." The two had an accent about them. This was because although originally from Drakoria, they didn't exactly grow up here.

They paused their stroll, eyes drawn to a particularly impressive acrobatic display. Brutus let out a low whistle. "Would ya look at that? Bendy as a rubber band, that one."

Ratface suddenly stiffened, realization dawning on his face. "Aw, blimey! We're supposed to be on a job, ain't we? Gustavo's gonna have our hides!"

Brutus scoffed, taking another bite of lamb. "Gustavo can kiss my hairy backside. Who does he think he is, anyway? Leavin' the brotherhood and then waltzing back in like he owns the place."

"Yeah," Ratface agreed, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "And Xylar the Soulless just lets him back in, no questions asked. What's that about, eh?"

"Probably got some dirt on the boss," Brutus speculated, licking his fingers. "Or maybe Xylar's gone soft. Soulless, my foot. More like Spineless, if you ask me."

They shared a chuckle, momentarily forgetting their supposed duties. Ratface's eyes wandered over the crowd, more out of habit than actual vigilance. Suddenly, he froze, his half-eaten lamb slipping from his grasp.

"Brutus," he hissed, smacking his partner's arm repeatedly. "Brutus, you great lump, look!"

"Ow! What's got your knickers in a twist?" Brutus grumbled, following Ratface's gaze. His eyes widened in disbelief.

There, in the midst of the revelry, stood their target – the noble woman they'd been tasked to find. Matilda was laughing, her amber dress catching the light as she twirled to the music.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," Brutus breathed. "That's her, ain't it? Our bounty, right there in front of us!"

Ratface nodded frantically. "It's like we've won the bloody lottery! Quick, what do we do?"

Brutus furrowed his brow in concentration, a process that looked physically painful. "We... we grab her?"

"In front of all these people?" Ratface squeaked. "Are you daft?"

"Well, I don't hear you comin' up with any bright ideas, do I?" Brutus retorted.

They continued to bicker in hushed tones, all while keeping their eyes locked on Matilda. In their distraction, neither noticed as a street performer's trained monkey scampered up to them, snatched the remainder of Brutus's lamb, and disappeared into the crowd.

Brutus, reaching for his next bite, grasped at empty air. He looked down, confused, then let out a roar of frustration. "Me lamb! Where's me bloody lamb?!"

His outburst drew curious glances from nearby revelers, including Matilda and her companions. Ratface quickly dragged Brutus behind a nearby stall, both men's hearts racing.

"Nice goin', you overgrown ox!" Ratface hissed. "Now what do we do?"

Brutus, still mourning his lost meal, shrugged helplessly. "I dunno. Follow her? And find me another lamb?"

Ratface sighed, resigning himself to an evening of bumbling surveillance and placating his partner's appetite. "Some professional kidnappers we are," he muttered, as they slunk back into the crowd.