I adjusted my cloak and headed down the street. Found the cobbler easily enough—the sign saying "Shoes" was hard to miss. At least they were consistent with their naming conventions.

  I walked up and knocked on the door. A man opened it. Middle-aged, leather apron. He looked me up and down, taking in the sandals, the cloak, the dress beneath it.

  "I need boots," I said.

  He nodded slowly. "I can—"

  A door burst open two houses down.

  Three men in black robes dragged a crying girl out by her hair. They threw a man out after her who looked like he could be her brother. He hit the dirt hard.

  "Please!" the man begged, scrambling to his knees. "She's only seventeen! My sister isn't a witch. She doesn't even have a class yet!"

  The girl sobbed, trying to pull away. One of the robed men yanked her hair harder.

  I recognized the robes immediately. This was a purge squad.

  Then I saw him. The skinny one. Short-cropped blonde hair, pale gaunt face, shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear into his own robes.

  "Hey, Vasil," I said, opening the satchel. "Look, it's the skinny guy from the swamp!"

  Vasil poked his head out. "Oh no! Inquisitors."

  The skinny guy's head snapped toward me and his face went white. "It's her!" he screamed, pointing at me with a shaking finger.

  The other two men turned.

  One was another mage—bald, older, the same judgmental eyebrows as the last one. The other must have been a bruiser, all muscle and armor underneath his robe. He didn’t appear to have a weapon, which struck me as odd.

  "Her?" the mage asked, confused.

  "The witch!" the skinny guy shrieked. "The one who killed Wojtek and Kazimier! She—she—"

  I waved at him, smiling my friendliest smile. "You never told me your name!"

  His face went red.

  The mage stepped forward, eyeing me carefully. "You killed two members of the Church?"

  "Gosh, are you guys still hung up on that?," I said. "That was so long ago. You need to get over it. It’s not like I’m out here shooting everyone I see.” I paused for a moment. “Bartek doesn’t count.”

  "You're coming with us, witch," the bruiser said.

  I cocked my head. "Are you sure about that? It won't be as easy as shooting a [Fireball] at some classless child."

  The girl whimpered. Her brother was still on his knees.

  The skinny guy started muttering something. Praying, I realized. To Stvora.

  I shook my head. "Stvora can't help you now, buddy.”

  “Blasphemy!” The mage screamed as his hands began to glow and flames started gathering in his palm.

  I rolled my eyes. "Is [Fireball] all you guys know how to use?" Then I activated [Clean Entry] and shot him in the chest.

  The round punched clean through. Not just through—it took everything with it. His heart, his lungs, half his ribcage. The hole was the size of a large dinner plate. His eyes were wide in surprise.

  I activated [Blink] and teleported behind him. I leaned and peeked through the gaping hole in his chest at the bruiser and gave him the middle finger.

  "You—" he started saying, but I activated [Clean Entry] again and shot him in the throat. Once again I had severely underestimated the power of the bear totem and his entire head disappeared in a spray of gore.

  “Dang,” I said. No shrunken bruiser head for me. What a shame.

  The mage's body fell forward into the dirt. The bruiser's headless corpse collapsed a second later.

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  [You have gained 1 level.]

  [You have gained 1 skill point.]

  [You have gained 3 stat points.]

  [You have gained 1 level.]

  [You have gained 1 skill upgrade point.]

  [You have gained 3 stat points.]

  The skinny guy was still there, shaking, eyes squeezed shut, muttering prayers faster and faster.

  I took a quick look at my mana. Just a little bit left. Not enough for another [Blink] or [Clean Entry]. I wondered if I should drink a mana potion.

  I cast [Soul Index] on him.

  [Classless]

  Status: Terrified

  Huh. Terrified seemed more like a mood than a status to me. Or was he so scared he was debilitated?

  I looked around. The cobbler was staring at me with wide eyes. The girl and her brother were doing the same. I thought about my mother’s words. How likely is the chance of danger? How costly would it be if I’m wrong? Yeah, the odds were slim. I decided against wasting a mana potion.

  I walked over to the terrified scriptor. "Hey.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at me, then immediately looked at the ground.

  "Stop praying. I'm already here," I chuckled.

  “W—what?” he stuttered.

  I sighed. “You people really don’t do humor, do you? Fine. What’s your name?”

  He swallowed. “Sebek. Sebek Zalevski.”

  “Okay, Sebek Zalevski.” I pointed at the girl on the ground. “What exactly did she do?”

  He looked at her. “She… she’s a witch.”

  I stared at him. Did this guy really believe she was a witch? I grabbed his face and gently turned it toward me. “Sebek. Look at me.”

  He resisted at first. I could practically see the argument happening behind his eyes. If he looked at me, he might die. If he didn’t look at me, he might also die. Tough choice.

  I gestured at my silver eyes. “I’m a witch.” I pointed at the girl. “She’s just some random kid without a class. Same as you.”

  I glanced over at the girl. “No offense.”

  She nodded rapidly.

  “But they said she was a witch,” Sebek stammered. “They said they saw her casting spells, praying to the moon.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really?” I asked the girl.

  She shook her head immediately. “No. I didn’t… I don’t even know any spells.”

  “Did you piss someone off?”

  “No,” she whispered. Then she hesitated. “I… I refused Bartek. He wanted—”

  She swallowed. “And he got angry. But that’s it. I swear.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded. “Well, Bartek won’t be bothering you anymore, on account of him no longer having a head.”

  The brother made a strangled noise. The cobbler let out a small gasp. Man, these people were dramatic.

  I turned back to Sebek. “Well then, Sebek Zalevski.”

  He flinched as I said his name.

  “After you ran away screaming like a girl last time, where did you go?”

  He still couldn’t bring himself to look me in the eyes. “Back to Opole.”

  “So not based here,” I said.

  He nodded quickly. “We were sent from Opole. To… to search the villages for witches. All the villages.”

  I tapped my chin. “So back in the swamp, you were looking for me specifically?”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something, but hesitated, then finally said, “Yes.”

  So somehow they knew I was there. I wondered how they figured that out, then remembered the old man I totally didn’t ask for directions. Could it have been him? Should I just ask Sebek?

  "How did you know where to find me?"

  "Someone reported an ‘exotic-looking woman’ stole his cloak. And then someone else saw you near the swamp edge."

  I wanted to say I was going to return it, but if I said that, he’d know I’d taken it and might think I was a thief. Which I wasn’t.

  “Excuse me? I’ll have you know this cloak was lovingly handcrafted by my poor, late grandmother, who tragically passed before she could even finish the embroidery. And I will not be accused of thievery by a man who can’t even grow a beard.”

  Sebek blinked rapidly. “I—He had a beard.”

  “I meant you, Sebek! Gods!”

  “S-Sorry, but you asked me how we knew where you were.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I will forgive you this one time, but I will have no more of these false accusations, you hear me?”

  He stared at the floor. “I apologize. Yes.”

  I gave him a nod. “Very good. Now back in Opole, where did you go and what did you do?”

  Sebek started shaking harder, and it appeared he was too scared to talk.

  “I promise I won’t get mad,” I said sweetly.

  “I—I went back to the church and told Bishop Sokólski what happened. Then the Bishop told Marcin to arrange a meeting with the Archbishop, Grand Inquisitor, and His Majesty King Boleswav.”

  Shit. So Vasil was right. These assholes probably think I’m Bies already. That's kind of perfect, isn't it? They're already scared. I should lean into that. Play it up. Make them think twice before sending more people after me. Thanks to Vasil I knew who the main players were so I could even make him think I was in total control.

  “Great,” I said faking my biggest smile. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

  This time he actually looked up at me. “It… was?”

  I nodded solemnly. "Of course it was. Think about it. I could've killed you back in the swamp. Could've killed you just now. But I didn't. Why do you think that is?"

  He stared at me, confused.

  "Because I needed someone to spread the word. To tell old Borys and Vladislav I was here. The king too. You think I just stumbled into Lipova by accident? That I just happened to run into you again? I see everything, Sebek.”

  I put out my hands and wiggled my fingers. “Everything.”

  His eyes went huge. “You know the Grand Inquisitor?”

  I chuckled. “Sebek, you sweet summer child. I know everyone.”

  "I want them to send their best. And I want them to know exactly who's coming for them. In fact, tell them don’t even bother trying to find me—I’ll come to them."

  I put my hand on his shoulder. He squealed and nearly fainted. "So thank you, Sebek Zalevski. You've been very helpful."

  He stared at me for a long moment. “You… You’re welcome?”

  “Now, run along, Sebek.” I made a shooing motion. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  He bolted, faceplanted into the dirt, did a panicked crawl, then staggered back up. I watched him disappear down the street, stumbling over his own feet, robes flapping behind him. Then turned to the brother, sister, and cobbler who were still staring at me like they’d never seen someone shoot a couple of guys before.

  I smiled at all three of them. “So. Do you take measurements or should I just tell you my size?”

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