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> I tipped my head over to the display of blades, my fingers on my chin, rubbing the stray hairs that’d grown. Behind me there was a noticeable glare from a man with a tight head wrap. Only eyes peering through. This individual looked over me, his body pointed forward to a meat seller. Above us, latticed paths ways as if bamboo ladders were stacked and wrapped together. People walked above, flexing the wood. No one seemed worried though. Literal floors of markets stacked on each other, people so clogged and desperate the very air was thin. Everyone was sweating. Though there was plenty of shade.

> A child passed me by with a platter of drinks. He pointed it to me.

>   “Sample?” He asked.

>   “For me?” I said. He nodded and I took a sip, my eyes dragging up to spot the King’s Watchman. The man turned back, straight to the meat seller. He took some sausage links and went down the path.

>   “The rat flees…” I mumbled. The boy looked at me strangely, then smiled when I caught him. “How much for one more?”

>   “Two bronze.” He said.

>   I tossed him two and he handed me another drink and ran off.

>   He took, was looking back at me.

>   “And a smaller rat comes to take his place…” I sighed. I looked down at the drink. “If it was poisoned, the first would have killed me.”

>   I drank it. A sweet, fizzy concoction. Pink, tasting of tangerine and honey. Maybe a hint of pineapple? Apparently coming from the nanalo, a fruit native to the lands. Too pulpy and fibrous and seeded to be consumed normally, therefore juiced and blended with honey. It was nice. It wouldn’t be a drink I’d mind, even it was poisoned.

>   I sipped and studied the blades further, stepping forward before I heard a familiar voice. The high-pitched croak like groan. Lowell Silverfang. He was arguing with one of the black smith, his arms to his sides. The blacksmith stared with a blank expression wiping the grease from his forehead. His cheeks dirty with soot. He shrugged and Lowell pointed.

>   “What’s the problem?” I asked. Lowell flinched, his shoulders shook and he turned slow.

>   “Captain?”

>   “I ain’t Captain.”

>   “Virgil.” He saluted.

>   “What the hell are you doing?”

>   “Nothing, Captain. That’s what we do now.” He said. “Shit, I mean Virgil.”

>   “That salute. What the hell is that?”

>   “We’re supposed to do that?”

>   “Who told you?”

>   “The other men.” Lowell said. “It’s ‘cause we’re going to join the knights.”

>   I felt a headache coming along. Something rising up to my temples.

>   “Oh…okay. What are you doing here?”

>   His cheeks went rosy.

>   “Nothing. Checking the stock. Getting better tips for the arrows.”

>   I turned to the blacksmith.

>   “What’s he doing here?”

>   The blacksmith looked plain at me. His eyes sunken, an old man who’d dealt with too much for too long.

>   “He’s buying a necklace.” He said.

>   “You’re not supposed to tell him!” Lowell turned. “Customer confidentiality!”

>   “He’s your superior. Ain’t he?”

>   “Wha-”

>   “I’m not.” I said. “What’s the necklace for?”

>   “I can’t…I cain’t tell you.” He said.

>   His shoulders sunk. I went to the blacksmith and looked over his wares. I picked out a few knives in their holster, raised them against the light and set them on a table.

>   “These and the necklace. How much?” I asked.

>   “The blacksmith turned to me.”

>   “Well, the jewelry ain’t done. But he can come pick it up later. For everything? Fifty silver.”

>   “You don’t have to-” Lowell said.

>   I set down the coin and the blacksmith looked it over, nodding his head. The knives were strapped to a giant leather sash, then rolled up. I put them underneath my armpits.

>   “Let’s get food Lowell.” I said.

>   “Okay. Okay.” Lowell said. “I’m paying though.”

>

>  

>

> Around me the men and women gave me shady looks, and I couldn’t be quite sure what it was. Whether it was because I was a foreigner. Whether it was because I wore the mark of the Crow along my shoulder. Whether they were all spies, and perhaps they were. How hard would it be really to pay a couple of these poor farmers off? How easy would it be to pluck any orphan for cheap work? We’d done it ourselves, after all. Most of those children - the ones we saved in Asmodas - were now enlisted as squires. That’s how it is here, you join the collective or die the individual. To wander like a sojourn, a cruel fate. So it was for these people, these desperate people of Xanthus. A man with a tear dropped shaped mole turned his head away from me, he paid some coin and stood from a table across from us and stopped before he made out of the plaza. He turned and glared.

>   “That’s what I’m saying.” Lowell ripped a piece of bread and dipped it into a little ramekin of oil. Droplets of vinegar floated above, black specks.

>

> A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

>

>   “I’m sure you’re not alone.” I said. “Everyone’s afraid of the war.”

>   “Well especially after we were ripped to shreds by those freaks.” He said. “Remember?”

>   “Remember? I flew at them. Do you remember that?”

>   “Who could forget?” He said. “You really lived up to the name, didn’t you.”

>   “We’ll probably face more of those speakers. Or whatever they’re called. The east is privy to those magicks. That’s what they’ve been telling me at least.” I said.

>   “That’s what’s got everyone afraid. For now it was a little tornado. Next we’ll have lava thrown at us.” He said. “A typhoon to drown us. Or something worse.”

>   “Do you want out?” I asked.

>   “Hmm?” Lowell stopped, bread in his mouth. He chewed woodenly and looked with wide eyes. His finger pointed at his own chest. He looked around, a waitress was just done setting down a plate. He looked to other tables. To the crow walking outside the little square plaza, around the sunshade set for us.

>   “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Do you want out?” I asked.

>   “Of course not. Never.” Lowell swallowed. “I don’t really need anything. We’ve got you. We’ve got Vincent. Sylas. It’s not the fourteenth I’m worried for.”

>   “What is, then?”

>   “I mean the other men. They kind of expect more coin, right? That’s what this was about. Land, money, women.” Lowell said. “Glory doesn’t buy much.”

>   “But it’s all that matters in the end.”

>   “I guess.” Lowell tapped the tabletop. “But I mean, try selling that to the barkeep when you want a drink. People need to eat. They need to fuck. They need to sleep, glory or not.”

>   “We’ll be getting paid after this.” I said. “Might be Capital military, officially.”

>   “Shit.” Lowell said. “Really?”

> I leaned back, my daggers bundled and to the side. I took the spoon and twirled the poultry dish, rolling bits of it in the juice and red gravy it’d been plated in. A selection of bright vegetables sliced and coated, a nice helping of potato underneath. Not grainy. Silky, just right, and cupping the juice in small divots. I ate and nodded.

>   “You didn’t hear it from me though.” I said. “I don’t know how long we’ll be fighting. But there is something to look forward to at the end of this war. A gold a man, remember that.”

>   “A gold a man.” Lowell nodded his head, smile growing. “You don’t look that happy.”

>   “I’m never happy.” I said.

>   “You’re right. But-” He leaned in. “You look unhappier than usual.”

>   “Can I ask you something, Lowell?” I asked.

>   He chomped down on his meal. Taking giant spoons, stuffing himself until his cheeks bulged. He chewed and nodded. The people passing us gave us disgusted glares, holding their little bags of trinkets or baskets of food.

>   “What’s your dream?” I asked.

>   “My dream?”

>   “Yes. After the Crows. What’s your lifes’ ambition?”

>   “Um…” Lowell’s cheeks grew rosy. “That adventurer novel. The one I’m writing with Edwin. We’d like to see it pressed.”

>   “The adventure book. I thought it was an encyclopedia. A monster guide?” I asked.

>   “To be fair, we haven’t been killing any monsters recently. Have we?” He said. “But we re-purposed. It’s an adventure novel. Based on the Crows, you see.”

>   “How far along are you?” I asked.

>   “You’d know the answer. How long’s the war going to be?”

>   I looked outside to the people, watching them wander. Each a little world unto themselves. A solemn silence of me just staring at the slow moving crowd. A river of concrete, approaching and filling every gap with a dreadful coming. Children with dolls clutched tight. Women selling roses from the alleys, bruises on their arms. The men in purple turning their faces away from jewelry sellers. They were all next to each other, so different from one another. Somehow all the same, in a way. Lowell cleared his throat.

>   “What’s your dream, Virgil?”

>   “I don’t know.” I said. “I think I want to leave. Go with Sylas back to his masters. To his homeland. Finish whatever he wanted to teach me.”

>   “You’re leaving?” Lowell asked.

>   “I said I don’t know.” I took a spoon and chewed. “I’ve got some work here to do still.”

>   “You and me both, Captain.”

>   “Is that right?” I said. “That necklace for a lady friend of yours?”

>   He dropped his spoon, eyes up and wide. He stuttered and blabbered and took a deep breath.

>   “Come on. How dumb do you think I am?” I said. “Is this your first love?”

>   He brought his head down and nodded.

>   “Don’t tell my brother.” Lowell said. “He’ll try to do too much. I want her…- Just me and her, you know?”

>   I looked to the sun then to my shadow, the shadows of my spies too. All elongated and dark and creeping.

>   “You should go get your necklace.” I said. “Tell him to put her name on it, if he hasn’t.”

>   He stood quickly. Taking the last spoonful of his food. He tucked his chair in and smiled.

>   “Thanks, Virgil.”

>   Then he left without paying. I looked at the plate, smirking almost, as I finished up my meal. I wiped my mouth and threw some coins on the table. The knives went over my shoulder and I stood. I saw five faces turn to me as I did. In the corners of my eyes, in the back of my mind. Intuition, paranoia, all blended together. Maybe they were the same thing.

>   That was fine though. I’d need them when the time came. After all, there was still work to be done in the city.