The flutter of red before the bull charge. Such wonderfully predictable people.

　　"Alright," he yelled, in order to be heard over the growing conversation and laughter surrounding us, "if you want to fight, let`s fight." Quieter. "How you want to do this?

　　"I demand a fight to the death." Projecting my voice outward, the buzz of the crowd growing. "If I win, I get your shit. If you win, you can get whatever you want."

　　Hesitation at fight to the death, almost spooked him, but then that sweetener. Hungry boy.

　　Nodding a few times. "Okay," he said, finally uncompressing his lips, "if that`s how you want it. After this I`m not going to give you a break. I`m heading over to the temple, carrying you back to my house and then I`m going spend the next couple hours plowing your little puss. I hope you like it rough. And then all these boys are going to get a turn. Or is that a little too strong for you?"

　　"Its a fight to the death, right?" Scowl on his face. Now those are some proper terms. "Get one of your boys to officiate." Starting the fight off on the right foot by cheating. Using my ungloved hand to put a blot on his cloak.

　　His friends glancing at each other and then one raising his hands, yelling, "Alright clear a space." The others starting to clear an area. Everton, flatfooted, flabbergasted, looking around helplessly.

　　What a great location, and all these people. Unfortunately, my legend can`t start back up today. Would like to get fancy, but two problems. First, can`t afford to, those terms are insane. Wasn`t thinking clearly. Second, don`t know exactly how this guy fights, but he certainly has no clue about me. Quick and professional. The legend can wait.

　　My opponent unslinging his bow and putting it off to the side with his stuff. Sword short, buckler, wearing chain, and now putting on a chain helmet. And a cat coming up beside him. Where`d that come from? Huh. Well, the good news, he`s not a Warrior. The bad news, he`s got a different set of skills. Looking around, assessing, but broad daylight in middle of town is certainly not the best place for them.

　　Concentrating on the blot to remove pieces. Too far out of range right now, will have to do it once it starts. Note to self, more ranks in Transference. Okay, he`ll either send the cat in first to maul me, or potentially flank. Hopefully the former, a flank would be bad. Once the kitty gets in range, or near enough, need to be quick. Losing a pet, they absolutely hate that.

　　The circle of spectators forming around us, spreading out. Him five paces away, and then his form changing color, mostly browns and greys, attempting to blend into his surroundings, making it more difficult to see his extremities. His friend offset between us.

　　Pack down to the side and cracking my neck back and forth. Quick arm stretches. Knife ready. Oh, you see that red glow. Never specified flares or not, and this one`s got a little more bite. Fair`s fair in a fight to the death. Well, looks like seeing that made your mind up, you have to run at me in order to end it sooner. The longer this goes the more likely you get extra toasty. No chance of attempted flank from the cat.

　　Most people flinch when a mountain lion runs at them. That`s normal. Its perfectly natural behavior that requires some unlearning. Here kitty kitty kitty, c`mere kitty. Reversing the grip on my knife, supporting the base with my offhand.

　　"Go!" said the officiator, dropping his arm and stepping out of the way.

　　Sprinting from my readied stance and aiming directly for his cat. Cats are faster than men, that`s how it goes. The animal with a similar idea, claws extended and mouth open, springing at me. Almost colliding together, but the cat hitting the crackling barrier instead, its outstretched limbs collapsing at the unexpected impact. The head following from behind, the hit forcing it to turn off to one side. Confusing it and exposing the neck. Staying at full speed and not breaking my stride, my braced weapon tearing into its throat and coming out the back. A spray of blood covering me from the near decapitation. Feles mortui percutiens. The body falling on top of me, its weight knocking me to the ground.

　　Unable to control my laugh. It hurts but its so funny. Feels like one of the claws managed to get my right shoulder when we hit, but mostly stopped by my armor. And then his yell right after, a wail mourning the severed connection with his former four legged friend. Emotionally in shock and not moving.

　　Pulsing the shield to knock the cat to the side and getting to my feet, my front totally covered in red. My opponent still not together; tears coming from his eyes, furious, weapon up and in his stance but not approaching. Removing the pieces of the blot to put a Rune Trap on him. Putting blot on my own shoulder, Rune of Mending, the wound closing and my armor being repaired. Wasn`t that bad a hit, not feeling any more tired at all. Another note to self, should preemptively put Mending runes on my armor. Maybe given the situation its time to get a little fancy.

　　Wiping my ungloved hand across my face to clear my right eye and smearing the blood in the process. "Oh shit, I`m really sorry I killed your cat." Giving the bleeding bag of fur and bones a kick. Pointing at him with my knife and laughing.

　　My taunt spurring him to action, running at me with a wordless scream and swinging with abandon. At first in a blind fury but then in desperation. Staying on defense, making light little pokes and slashes, feeling the energy in my weapon increase with each block or ineffectual hit against his armor. The incoming strikes of his weapon clear even as the outer edges of his form blurred into the background. Dancing around him in a couple circles, blocking with the shield or knocking his swings wide..

　　This is a nice little sparring session. Not as fast as before, not slow but certainly nowhere near as quick, but the shield more than makes up for it. Knocking his weapon to the side and then using a pulse to hit his nose. Using the opportunity to strike while he was still disoriented. There, a solid hit to the stomach, my knife puncturing a few inches through his chain armor. Pulling the blade to the side on the way out to gouge out more and blocking his counter with the shield.

　　My opponent stepping back into a defensive position, breathing hard, his fury spent. Looks like the poke to the belly woke him up. He knows he`s being toyed with.

　　You didn`t realize a little girl could muster the strength to punch right through? Thought you were mostly safe until it went off, huh? Soon, soon. Only a couple more swings until its ready to go.

　　Stepping in and going on the offensive. He definitely smartened up, would have done much better if this is how he was fighting from the start. Well, maybe not, he was always on the clock and too late now. The energy in my knife full to bursting. Giving him my best smile. Feint low to drop his hands and activating the Rune Trap. Uh oh, you don`t know what happened, do you? Into your cheek. That is real nice and toasty.

　　Falling to his knees. There`s the ghost.

　　Screams and yells and cries all around me accenting the smell of burnt hair and meat. Some merely surprised, most horrified. My adoring public. The Stormhawk group coming up to me, not hostile, certainly not happy, but not overtly hostile.

　　"I get all his stuff, right? Or do you want to beg for something?" Tapping my knife against my leg. Giving a quick glance to his ghost. "How pissed do you think he`s going to be? What`s his bow made out of?" No response. "How about we go back to being palsy walsy, and I`ll just take, I dunno, all his money. How broke are you? They don`t pay you shit over there, do they? Two fifty a cycle. Right?" Smile getting wide again, then back to serious. "I`ll take his pocket change and you can keep his shit. Then don`t fuck with me anymore."

　　Looking at each other and then conferring. Some profanity and one particular word said several times. Macarthy. Here comes one.

　　"He`s going to be very angry about that cat," he said, "but as far as we go, deal."

　　The ghost and body disappearing.

　　"Good, I got what I wanted anyway." Eyes crinkling. Let`s see what you got in your pockets. No surprise, you are one broke ass bitch. Should have taken your stuff. Oh well, buyer`s remorse. Going over to his pack and looking through. Net gain of fortyish silver, could have been much worse. Wiping my face off on some cloth inside his pack and then turning to go back to my stuff. Someone standing in my way, Everton, with an uncertain expression. Come to think of it this is similar to how we first met. Me, covered in blood, and him with that same expression.

　　"Lucy, I-"

　　"You don`t need to apologize. But when it comes to Evie mind your-" Stopping. Mind your manners. He wouldn`t understand the phrase. "Keep your fucking mouth shut. I don`t want to give her anything to worry about."

　　"I`m sorry."

　　"Jack, don`t be. Everything worked out. How you liking Stormhawk?"

　　"I`m," looking at the other members of his group, "I`m liking it. They`re mostly good people."

　　"Good, I`m glad. I`ll see you around. Keep all this to yourself."

　　Not waiting for his answer and getting my pack back on. Too dirty for Shaker now, and a complete waste of time cleaning it this early. Underground, it is. But first some errands. Back to the bank. A few people clapping me on the shoulder while walking out, a couple good jobs.

　　"I`d like to withdraw fifteen hundred, in gold."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

　　The teller looking at me, then glancing up and off to one side. Pausing, confused. Clearing my throat.

　　"I`m sorry Ms. Macarthy, here`s your money," counting out fifteen gold coins, "your remaining balance is three thousand seven hundred fifty five silver, three thousand two hundred fifty five of which is available for withdrawal. Thank you for banking with us."

　　"Thank you."

　　Collecting my money and heading over to the cobbler.

　　"I`m going to need a couple more pairs of boots. One for more mountainous terrain, a little more breathable than the current pair I have on. And something like those other boots you made, they were absolutely wonderful and I seem to have misplaced them."

　　"Light brown again for the color?" said the cobbler.

　　"No. Lets do dark brown, instead. No wait, more brown. And then dark grey for the mountain ones. If possible could I pick up one set and leave the other here for a few days?"

　　"I can store the others for maybe five or six days."

　　"Excellent, you`re a lifesaver. I still need to sort my living situation. Oh, and then a regular pair of shoes for puttering around town. Low top. Let`s do light brown on those."

　　"Style?"

　　"I don`t know. Comfortable."

　　"How about something like this?" Grabbing a loafer from a nearby display.

　　"A slip on? No. How about something more like, like, like, like that one there. I like the laces and stitch pattern, and otherwise nice and simple, understated. And, changed my mind, those look really sharp, instead of brown, let`s do black like that. If possible, could those shoes be ready by tomorrow?"

　　"Certainly."

　　Counting out the money then heading to the clothing store.

　　"Ms. Macarthy, welcome back" said the woman, taking stock of my appearance. "Would you like me to have your clothes cleaned?"

　　"Don`t worry about it, and thank you, its great to be back. I think I`m going to retire this set. Its done its job very well, but its time for some upgrades. That other set you made was phenomenal but, for the life of me, I don`t know where it ran off to. So I need another. I`d also like a more waterproof set with better material than this. This grey color isn`t bad either. For the other set, exactly like you did before, but in a darker color like this, at least darker pants lighter shirt. And I need a new cloak, this green`s still useful right now, but I`m going to need a medium brown."

　　"Of course," she said, "anything else?"

　　"Yes, I need an incognito set. At least, a non threatening set. That skirt you made for me was great. Unfortunately I lost it at some point, so I need another, but lets do black this time. More demure. Won`t stand out. And I`m not a hundred percent on the style of the shirt. Let`s not do sleeveless, but upper arms only, definitely not down to the wrist," my grin breaking through, "white again, it looked really good, and I think it`ll add a certain panache, you know?" My grin getting wider. "And then a couple more pairs of underwear and black tanktops, more of those standard knee high black socks, a couple white tanktops, as well, and then another set of those thigh high socks. Black this time."

　　The woman nodding as my list was growing, her smile growing with it.

　　"And, I`m really sorry, I know its a lot, but could this possibly be ready by tomorrow?"

　　"Ms. Macarthy," she said, "I`ll make it a priority, I appreciate your business."

　　"I appreciate you."

　　Counting out the money and then heading to the pawnshop.

　　"You don`t have the sort of handaxe I was looking for, what`s the price on this one?"

　　"Seventeen hundred," he said, in his oily tone.

　　Fighting those trees today really highlighted the need for a primary weapon. Turned out alright, Riley playing artillery and us covering. This thing only being useful once every so often. But thinking about it, maybe an axe like this knife wouldn`t be ideal, not as quick, slower to charge up. Seventeen hundred? Maybe. But out of my price range at the moment.

　　"I`ll think about it, thank you." Leaving and then wandering through the merchant district. Four thirty, the day slipping away. Let`s see, room for rent, room for rent. There should be a real estate office somewhere around here. Noticeable free standing sign next to a white building. Lumeer Merchant District Properties. The logo a house by a few lines. Maybe the ocean. This must be the place. Turning the knob and heading inside. The interior stinking of tobacco smoke. Several desks, cluttered, no agents visible.

　　"Hello, I was wondering about renting an apartment. Hello?"

　　Noise off to the side.

　　"Hello? You`ve got a customer. Money to burn."

　　"We`re closing in thirty minutes," came the cranky voice. "You might want to come back tomorrow." A woman, clearly a smoker from the voice, at least several pipes a day.

　　"I can get this done really quick. Don`t you want to get a commission? I`ll be in and out."

　　Poking her head out of her office and blinking at me.

　　"If you`ve come here to rob us I don`t have the key to the safe," she said.

　　"I don`t want to rob you, I want an apartment. I`ve got money." Flashing a couple of the remaining gold.

　　"You look like an axe murderer."

　　"There`s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this." Walking over to her. "C`mon you said you were closing in thirty minutes, let`s hop to."

　　"Alright," she said, sighing, "please take a seat, Ms. Macarthy." Sitting at her desk and picking her pipe back up, giving it a puff. Sitting in a chair across from her.

　　"I`m interested in a one bedroom, but not bottom of the barrel I`m not some kind of hobo. I was thinking thirteen hundred a month. Somewhere quiet, discrete."

　　"Discretion is going to cost more than thirteen," she said, "but I think I have a property near your price range. Its to the west of here. Let me get the floor plan." Going over to a filing cabinet, selecting a drawer and pulling out a stack of paper. Coming back to her desk and sorting through it. Pulling one out and handing it over.

　　"Its one bedroom, one and a half bath," she said. "Its got a terrace overlooking this picturesque quiet street. Somewhat near the street fair but not so near that it`ll keep you up. Some restaurants on the block over. Private entrance. Fourteen hundred a month. Its quite nice. Hardwood floors."

　　Studying the floor plan. Foyer, living room, kitchen, dining room, a couple closets, the bedroom and one and a half bath.

　　"How tall are the ceilings?"

　　"Cathedral."

　　"Furnished?"

　　"Partially."

　　"Sounds good, looks plenty big. But my concern is discretion. How much do you suppose its going to run me not to have the lease in my name? I figure we`ll bump up your commission a bit."

　　"For that sort of service, Ms. Smith," she said, "I`d figure an appropriate gratuity would be five hundred a month."

　　"That`s steep. How about instead of being partially furnished you get some people to make it fully. And I`ll give you first, security, and two months of your commission up front. King sized bed."

　　"I`ll draw up the contract now," she said.

　　"I`ll be right back, got to get the money from the bank."

　　Running to the bank. Withdrawing a note with every available silver to withdraw and getting back to the real estate office five minutes past closing. Ending up counting out the last two gold in silver after digging through my pack and still being a little short. Crap. No, wait, solution.

　　"Let me see one of those gold coins real quick."

　　Copy. These are always tough. Pinching as hard as possible, and slowly pulling it apart. Slick, keep going. Almost there. Got it. One gold coin pinched between the thumb, index and middle fingers on each hand.

　　"Maybe I should have charged you more," said the woman.

　　A bead of sweat rolling down my face. "Those are not easy, and now I`ve got to wait a little more than a day. I`d much rather have that for pint emergencies or doubling the last french fry. Much shorter cooldowns, and much more useful."

　　"I`ll take your word for it," she said with a laugh, before handing over a key. "Here you are, Ms. Smith. You can move in tomorrow after about three. Here is the address of the residence, and have future payments sent to this postal address, and my commission to this one. Pleasure doing business with you." Handing over a scrap of paper.

　　Errands, for the most part, done. Probably record time. Now underground.

　　***

　　Late. Almost eleven. Staring at nothing while sitting in the baths. The room essentially empty, closing in a few minutes. The final chore of the day. Doing a last stretch and then getting out. Towel, front desk, giving them a look, getting my freshly cleaned clothes and back to the locker room. Combing out my hair, taking my time. Last remaining other guests all gone. Everything on, equipped, armed and ready. Leaving the locker room tapping on the walls, tapping my feet getting up to the front desk. Two of them at the counter. Walking right up and tapping my hands on their desk.

　　"Ms. Macarthy, is there something you need help with?" the one on the left said.

　　"Yes, there is. Thank you for asking."

　　"Ms. Macarthy, its past closing time we`re going have to ask you to leave soon," the one on the right said.

　　"Didn`t you hear I had a question? Do me a favor, for everyone`s sake, don`t try to run. There`s two of you and I only need one."

　　Their breath catching.

　　"I have a very simple question. And to bring your fear down a touch, understand that we all know what I`m talking about, and I understand that you may have issues discussing it. Beyond your control."

　　The wild panic in their eyes subsiding a bit.

　　"So, I was just wondering, where exactly is what I`m looking for?"

　　The two looking at each other and then the one on the right coming around near me, but looking off to the left. Putting his left hand out, finger pointing. Putting his arm right next to my head, pointing at a spot in the hallway. Squinting my eyes, studying it, and then seeing the crack. No, not a crack, another hallway, heading off toward the baths.

　　Nodding at him, and then walking down the newly discovered hallway. A door leading to a barren, rectangular room with a bare floor and unpainted walls. Heading through, but hitting a dead end. A pull chain and a shower head, like in the others, but no exit to a bath. The only thing here. Giving it a pull. Nothing. Again. Nothing. A third time and then the floor dropping out from under me, sending me below.