She raised a hand and pointed toward a half-collapsed tower.
She usually handled support, while Pica often remained hidden in the shadows.
It was not that they were weak, only that the enemies their companions faced were often beyond reason.
Now, on this island stripped of its defenses, the two met no resistance.
Their advance abruptly halted.
Jora suddenly stepped left, the tip of her glass slipper tracing an arc of light as she split the wave of mud about to surge toward a patch of ruins.
"Are you still alive?"
Two figures, one large and one small, huddled in the rubble.
The older girl shielded the baby in her arms with her entire body. Her hair was a strange mixture of blue and pink, and a pair of tender, curved horns atop her head trembled faintly in the dust.
The girl raised her face, unfamiliar silhouettes reflected in her eyes.
Jora froze at the unexpected question.
Was she supposed to tell her outright, "We're here to steal things, so you'd better keep quiet"
?
"I didn't notice you just now."
Pica slowly rose from the ground, speaking apologetically.
When fighting pirates, life and death were commonplace, but faced with a young child and a baby... he really could not bring himself to do it.
At least, he could not.
"Sorry we frightened you."
He nodded to the little girl holding the baby, then turned to his companion.
"We should go. Once we've emptied the treasury, our mission will be-"
"Please wait!"
The girl holding the swaddled baby suddenly raised her voice.
"Uncle, Auntie, are you going to the treasure room?"
"That's just an ordinary warehouse.
I know where the grown-ups' real treasury is."
The two exchanged a glance.
Jora walked over and crouched down, keeping her voice very soft.