>Class [The Chosen One’s Squire] Level 8 Obtained!

  >Skill [Focused Mind] Obtained!

  >Do you accept?

  Damian accepted the level-up he’d gotten just before waking. Last time it had happened right before he fell asleep, which struck him as odd. He wondered if it was because of everything that had happened yesterday or if the Game just needed extra time to think, or what. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. Levels were levels, and all levels were good. The skill sounded useful, at least.

  “Good morning,” Konrad said cheerily, though Damian wasn’t sure how he knew he was awake. He hadn’t stirred yet.

  Rolling over, Damian saw Konrad cooking something over the metal hearth stove. It sizzled like fat and smelled like meat. Was meat for breakfast normal in the city? Where did they even get enough of it to eat it so casually? Konrad didn’t look particularly well off, but then again, Damian’s sense of what well off meant had been a little skewed since arriving in Jahrmarkt.

  Damian sat up, wincing at the tightness in his back. After a short argument the night before, Konrad had stubbornly ended their conversation, insisting on going to bed. Equally stubborn, Damian had refused to leave, and Konrad had waved him off, telling him to sleep on the floor. Damian hadn’t been sure if he was serious, but since he had his bedroll, he’d done just that. At least Konrad didn’t seem upset about it.

  “Morning,” Damian replied cautiously.

  They stared at each other for a moment. Konrad seemed to be waiting for Damian to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. Finally, Konrad shrugged. “You hungry? Making some eggs and ham.”

  Damian was, in fact, hungry.

  “Er... sure. But...”

  “But?”

  Damian surreptitiously glanced around the small living space. “Where are you even keeping ham?”

  “Hah! Marduk's beard, I should spend more time with yeomen, you crack me up.” Konrad shook his head, then gestured to one of the small cabinets. “Preservation runes. Most places have them as a necessity. Perks of the big city.”

  That... made sense. It was wild, having magic in every room of these massive buildings—but it made sense. Damian shook his head as he rolled up his bedroll and stuffed it back into his bag of holding. “What’s that mean?”

  “Preservation runes?” Konrad asked, furrowing his brow. “Not all that confusing y’know. They do exactly what—”

  “Yeomen,” Damian clarified, straightening up from his packing.

  “Oh.” Konrad glanced over, appraising Damian for a moment. “Just a word for folks who don’t live in the cities. Doesn’t mean anything bad, man—promise. You just... give the vibe.”

  It took Damian a moment to parse that. He didn’t know what vibe meant either, but he could guess from context. There was a word for people who didn’t live in cities? Wasn’t that just... people? Well, he supposed there was a word for everything. And for everything there wasn’t, someone made one up.

  “Here.” Konrad handed Damian a simple ceramic plate.

  Damian was again caught off guard. All the plates he’d ever seen were wood. Or, rarely, metal. After he took it, Konrad scraped two eggs and a pair of thick slices of seared ham onto the plate before repeating the process for himself. When Damian hesitated, unsure what was expected, Konrad gestured toward one of the two chairs at the small table, and Damian sat.

  It was polite to wait for your host to eat first, but Damian hardly had to wait. Konrad dug in with gusto. It felt... bizarre, to have traveled so far only to be sitting and eating breakfast like this. Konrad ate like he didn’t have a care in the world. Damian wasn’t sure what [The Chosen One] was supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t this.

  “Don’t like eggs?” Konrad asked, glancing from Damian’s untouched plate to his face.

  “Oh—no, they’re fine,” Damian said, blushing as he took a quick bite to be polite. He realized just how hungry he was and started eating in earnest, though with not quite the same vigor as Konrad.

  When Konrad finished, he just sat there, staring at Damian until the silence made him squirm. Damian started eating faster, trying to match pace, and soon they sat over two empty plates—Konrad still watching, Damian avoiding his gaze. He scrambled for something to say. All that searching, and he’d never considered that [The Chosen One] might not even want his help. He was supposed to be their squire, after all.

  “Okay, well.” Konrad slapped his hands against his knees. “I got shit to do, and I’m not leaving you alone in my lodging. So... it was nice to meet you, sorry you came all this way and allat, but—”

  “I’ll go with you,” Damian said quickly.

  Konrad froze. For a moment, he just sat there, then shook his head. “Nah, you don’t wanna follow me, man. I’m up to no good and allat.”

  “I don’t have anything else to do,” Damian countered, scrambling for a reason Konrad might accept. “I came to the city looking for you. Maybe, uh... maybe that’s a bust, but I don’t know my way around. You found me skilled into a stupor, so clearly I’m out of my depth. I won’t get in your way, but could I follow you, just to learn a bit about the city? So I don’t end up getting swindled out of my entire coin purse?”

  Damian could tell Konrad was wavering. He made an odd face, almost pained. “Look, man, I’m really not the best role model. It’s not gonna be all you think it is.”

  “The Great Game seems to think otherwise,” Damian said, trying flattery.

  “Yeah well, the Great Game doesn’t know what the fuck it’s talking about,” Konrad muttered.

  Though Damian wasn’t particularly good at reading people, even he knew better than to respond to that.

  Konrad scoffed. “Alright man, but I’m not looking out for you. And you better not rat on me, cause you’ll be complicit as far as the [Judges] are concerned. Already are, probably.”

  That sounded ominous, but Damian had already made up his mind. He needed to convince Konrad of the danger he was in, and that they needed to follow the quest the Great Game had given him. He couldn’t do that if he wasn’t around Konrad, so the obvious path forward was to stay close. He’d just have to figure out what to say to make Konrad take it seriously.

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  Konrad stood, grabbed Damian’s plate, and took both dishes to the washbasin, cleaning them with a rag. While he tidied up, he spoke over his shoulder. “Need anything before we go? Actually, forget I asked. I’m still trying to pretend you don’t exist.”

  That was fine by Damian.

  A moment later, Konrad set down the clean dishes, slung a satchel over his shoulder, and headed for the door. He held it open, and Damian nodded as he stepped through. They locked up and took the stairs to the street. Konrad didn’t say where they were going, and Damian didn’t ask. It didn’t really matter.

  As they walked, Damian experimented with his new skill. He quickly discovered it was something he could toggle on and off. When he tried it out, the world felt a little... number. Everything dimmed—fuzzier, duller—except for what he focused on. Subtle, maybe a little niche, but it’d definitely make traversing the bazaar easier if he ever had to do that again.

  Damian dismissed the skill, and the world snapped back into stark relief. Sounds he hadn’t even realized he’d been suppressing crashed into his ears like a wave. He nearly tripped over his own feet, caught off guard by the sudden rush of sensation. Good to know. That would take some getting used to. Or maybe that was just part of the skill, something to keep in mind. Mother Revna had said some skills had drawbacks.

  As they walked, the smells of the city were cut by the cloying scent of salt, and Damian realized they must be nearing the sea. He hadn’t even known the city was on the ocean—it hadn’t looked that way from the front gate. Then again, the city stretched for miles, and the outer wall had blocked most of his view as they approached.

  The buildings flattened out again, lower even than those in the bazaar. Most were only two stories and far less ornate. Like the towering structures in the city’s center, these squat buildings were mostly unadorned, with large wooden doors. Some were propped open, letting Damian glimpse inside. They looked like old warehouses, though many had clearly been repurposed. Music spilled from an inn, and one building overflowed with fish stalls, piles of catch stacked high around tables glowing with magic to keep them fresh.

  Konrad didn’t spare a glance for the bustle around them, just kept trudging down the road. Seemingly at random, he took a sharp turn into an unremarkable warehouse with its door barely propped open, and Damian followed. Inside was dim, with small windows near the ceiling letting in just enough light to see by. The air hung heavy and musty, filled with faint shuffling and low voices beneath the muffled din from outside.

  “Last chance to fuck off,” Konrad muttered. “If we get caught by the [Watch] or anything, I’m not looking out for you.”

  What did he mean caught by the [Watch]? It didn’t matter. Damian had to stick around to convince him they needed to run from Nephret. He just had to figure out what made him tick.

  “I’m fine,” Damian said with a faint smile.

  Konrad sighed. “Alright, well—you signed up for this.”

  Konrad put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, the sharp sound cutting through the dark maze of crates and chests. Moments later, a trio of figures shuffled out of the shadows, resolving into two men and a woman as they stepped into the light. The woman led, and she was decidedly not human. A leather bodice and stained work pants did little to hide the thick, ruddy-orange hair running down the outsides of her arms, and her face extended into a snout with a flat nose. Her ears were large and pointed, like pink, fleshy leaves on the sides of her head.

  Try as he might, that was all Damian could make out. She wasn’t hiding her features, and it wasn’t too dark to see. They just... slipped from his gaze. He couldn’t say what color her eyes were or how her hair was cut. It was like seeing the vague outline of a person’s face from far away, but up close.

  She was obviously Swine-kin. But the lack of details... that had to be a skill, right? When he flicked his gaze to the men behind her, he realized he couldn’t make out their faces either. Damian wasn’t sure what was going on, but he decided to keep his eyes fixed on the woman’s belt buckle. It wouldn’t be polite to stare, after all.

  “Who’s the kid?” the woman asked, punctuating the question with a piggish snort.

  Konrad gave Damian a sly look, then shrugged. “New assistant, or something like that. Expanding my operations, y’know.”

  “Tch.” The woman tutted, then snorted again for good measure. “Whatever. [No-Name Business] has to apply, though.”

  “Certainly,” Konrad said with a smile Damian could tell was forced. “Why don’t you hand him the first crate, then we’re all in business.”

  One of the men behind the woman in charge produced a small crate, seemingly from nowhere, and stepped forward to offer it to Damian. He glanced at Konrad, who nodded toward the crate, so Damian stepped forward and took it. It was lighter than he expected, even for its small size. Then, suddenly, the features of all three snapped into focus. The woman had green eyes and short blonde hair that stood up in tufts.

  “And the money?” the woman asked, shifting her weight and planting her hands on her hips.

  Konrad chuckled, pulling a small pouch from his pocket. “C’mon, you know I’m good for it. So stiff for an old friend.”

  The Swine-kin woman fittingly snorted again as she took the pouch. She even went so far as to open it and inspect the coins inside. Apparently satisfied, she pocketed it and waved to the other man, who produced and handed a second crate to Konrad. “Pleasure doing business, as usual.”

  “Always,” Konrad said, though his tone was a little stiff. “Might be moving on to new opportunities soon. So if you don’t hear from me next time you ask, don’t get worried or nothing.”

  The woman considered him for a moment, then shrugged. “Wouldn’t’ve worried anyway. But I hope whatever it is works out for you.”

  “Awh.” Konrad adjusted his grip on the crate. “You’re a big softie. See ya around, Snout.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, turning to call over her shoulder, “fuck off—Skinny.”

  Konrad turned to leave, and Damian scrambled to follow. The two of them pushed back out of the warehouse, and that was that. Damian felt a flicker of guilt over what had just happened. He wasn’t stupid—it was obviously illegal, whatever they’d just bought. But Konrad had warned him, and arguing about it in front of that woman would’ve been dumb.

  “So... what are you, some kind of [Black Market Merchant]?” Damian asked quietly.

  Konrad gave him a bemused look. “What, me? No, of course not. And you can say that on a truth stone—’cause it’s the truth. Speaking of which, do you know for sure what’s in that crate?”

  Damian opened his mouth to say yes, then paused, reconsidering. “Er... no?”

  “Neither can I,” Konrad agreed cheerily. “In fact, if someone asked me on a truth stone what’s in here, I could honestly say I’m not sure. I haven’t looked. Make sense?”

  Damian frowned, giving the small crate in his hands a critical look. It didn’t exactly look suspicious, but he realized it was true—anything could be inside. Anything light and smaller than a foot across, anyway.

  “How... how illegal is what I’m getting wrapped up in?” Damian asked cautiously.

  Konrad hesitated, slowing half a step as they walked. When he spoke, his tone was slow and deliberate. “Right now, we’re just walking. We just left a business deal involving less than fifty pounds of goods, which—according to the Word—doesn’t need to be documented. You could probably walk away now and be fine.”

  Damian didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all. But he had a quest, and Konrad was the only way to complete it. In fact, Konrad was the quest. If the Great Game saw something in him, then Damian would have to trust its judgment.

  “But?” Damian prompted.

  Just then, they turned off the main street and down a narrow alley between the giant warehouses. Konrad didn’t answer for a full minute, not until they reached a small door set into one of the walls. Even Damian’s untrained eye could see it shimmering with faint magical energy.

  Konrad fished a key from his pocket and slid it into the keyhole, turning it with a satisfying click. Before opening the door, he glanced back at Damian with a sly grin. “Look, man, I’m not gonna lie to you—what’s in here is a lot more illegal and way less deniable than some underhanded dock deal. And I’m a dead man walking, so I couldn’t care less what’s up with you. You can just set that box down and walk away. I mean it. If I really am in as much danger as you say, you shouldn’t be sticking with me anyway man.”

  Set it down and walk away. The words echoed in his head. A part of him thought that wasn’t such a bad idea. Konrad had made it clear he wasn’t even going to try to complete the quest he’d been given. And even if Damian could convince him, was this really the kind of guy meant to save the world, or whatever it was [The Chosen One] was supposed to do?

  But if he wasn’t, then what had Damian been given his Class for? What had Konrad been given his for? What had Finn and his family died for?

  Damian’s face hardened, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the box. “I’m not going anywhere.”