“Skinners?” Marcus repeated.

“Yeah. Apparently they skin people,” I said. “From what I’ve been told, they have agents all over the place and have been sabotaging a research project at Oxenraith University.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “What I have observed of their activities here in Haemir does not indicate they are an organization with a reach all the way to the FSR. What is this project? Why is it being sabotaged?”

“Can’t tell you that,” I said. “The details were given to me in strict confidence. Look, the important thing is you know you’re right about this conspiracy. You promised you’d leave me alone if I told you what I know. Are you a liar?” Marcus’s curled lip in response to my accusation told me “liar” would be a good insult to use against church members in the future. All I wanted was to pass on enough details to satisfy the needs of my future self to warn Brother Marcus. Anything more and I’d risk either implicating myself or exposing my connection to Brookie.

“Wait,” Brother Marcus said. “What about the skinning? I am certain I would have noticed if the Black Masks were doing that to people around here.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Then maybe you should start looking into it. I’m not a detective. I told you what I know. Maybe they’re good at hiding it? Or… maybe it has something to do with the you-know-what? I still don’t know what that thing is. Does it skin people?”

Bother Marcus’s eyes widened. He looked down at his chest plate. “You—you’re not lying, are you?”

“Why would I lie about that?” I asked. “I just want to cure my cancer and go home. Maybe collect some cool magic to take home with me along the way. All this stuff about people getting skinned doesn’t—”

Marcus grabbed me roughly by the shirt and pulled me close, lifting me slightly off my feet. “Quiet!” he hissed. “You know not what you say. Do you ever stop to think of anyone other than yourself?”

“No. Why would I? I have nothing to do with your world’s conspiracies and murders and whatever else people refuse to talk about.” I pushed my hand against his armored chest, but failed to dislodge myself from the bigger man’s grip. “Now let go of me!” I demanded when it became clear I’d need his consent.

Marcus snarled, but he dropped me. “You are a child,” he said with evident disdain.

I snorted out a laugh through my nose to let him know what I thought of that. “Yeah, and you’re the one everyone has to keep apologizing for.”

“This isn’t about me or you. This is about people dying; people going missing. If there is anything more you can say to help me, I suggest you speak up, because the next deaths will be on your head.”

“No, they won’t!” I objected. “You can’t pin anyone else’s murders on me. Go after the murderers. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

Marcus sneered at me and dropped the visor on his helmet. He pushed past me. “This isn’t over,” he promised.

“Wait!” I called after him. “That’s the Adventurer’s Guild, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing towards the big square building that stuck out from its surroundings. It was made of a sort of orange stone and of a distinct style from what was favored by the architecture of Haemir. Rather than layered gray stone, it was one solid piece and squared off with sharp angles. The windows were tiny slits.

Brother Marcus turned his armored head to the building, then back to me. “What other big green buildings do you know of?” he asked, before marching off into the crowd.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Green. Right. Rissians sure seemed to call a lot of colors green. I worked my way through the light crowds of the market towards the Guildhall. There were a few tables and chairs set up in front of the building, with a small cluster of armored men and women lounging about. They were leaned up against the wall, passing what looked like hand-rolled cigarettes back and forth, though the smoke was more acrid than I was used to smelling. Most of those rough-looking folk wore hardened leather breastplates with the spotted pattern of pursuer beasts showing around the shoulders, several sported the blue scale mail I’d seen Ferrith wearing, and two of them wore something even more impressive: a scaled armor that glittered in the sun like red rubies. They didn’t give the impression that they were actually guarding the place, so I just gave them a respectful nod and kept walking.

“Whoa there, little boy,” one of the tough men said, stepping between me and the doorway. “Where do you think you’re going?” He was wearing a suit of scale mail with red sparkling scales. The lines of his face looked weathered, a pale scar twisting up his neck and onto his cheek. It pulled one side of his mouth into a smile, though the rest of his demeanor looked anything but happy.

“I’m going inside,” I said.

“This isn’t a place for children.” He poked a finger at my shoulder. “Get lost.”

“I’m not a child,” I insisted, “and I’m going inside.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” the man said. “This is the Adventurer’s Guild. You’re not an adventurer. That means you stay outside.”

I rolled my eyes. Clearly, this guy fancied himself some kind of bully. “How can I sign up to become an adventurer if I’m not allowed inside?” I asked.

The group behind the man broke out into guffaws of laughter. I caught a better whiff of the smoke coming from their cigarettes. It curled my nose. It smelled like I imagined chili peppers would if one were crazy enough to smoke them. “Says he wants’ta be a ‘venturer?” a woman in the group asked in a mocking tone. She kept her hair in a single thick braid down her back with white feathers threaded in. She was the other loiterer wearing sparkling gems for armor, though she didn’t appear interested in getting out of the chair she was leaned back in. She pulled a cigarette out of her mouth with a hand wrapped in a metallic gauntlet, with claws sticking out of them. I recognized the claws as belonging to a pursuer beast.

“Does they even make kids that small?” a tall man in a full suit of black armor asked. His helmet hid his features, but he was the tallest of the group. Taller even than Brother Marcus. He was the only one not smoking one of the peppery cigarettes. He wasn’t quite ogre-height, but I thought he’s make a respectable showing if he got sized up with Brookie.

“Okay, laugh it up,” I said. I tried to walk around the scarred man in the red armor, but he stuck out an arm to block me again. “There isn’t actually some kind of height requirement to join, is there?”

The scarred man looked at his companions. “You hear this kid?” he asked. He turned back to me. “Do people really put up with you yammering out questions like that?”

“He thinks there’s a height requirement, ha!” the woman jeered.

“Okay, I think I get it. You’re making fun of me. Cool. Well, I’m still joining, so get out of the way.” I tried again to move past the man in the glittering red armor. It seemed absurd to me that he could be so serious while wearing an outfit gaudy enough to pass for a Vegas showgirl. His armor clacked as he used both hands to physically shove me back. His threatening posture drew my attention to the massive sword strapped to his back. Surely he wouldn’t use it on me, would he?

“Not so fast, Shorty,” he said. “There ain’t no height requirement, but there’s a registration fee. Joinin’ ain’t free.”

“I already knew that,” I said. “I’m prepared to pay.”

The man stuck out his hand, palm up. “Well, let’s see it then.”

“What? My money?”

“Yeah, you want to sign up? You need coin.”

“Umm, I’m not giving you my money. I might be new, but I can tell you guys aren’t employees of the guild.” I tried juking right, then slipping by on the left when the scarred man tried to block me, but this time the giant in the black armor stuck a leg out to trip me. I pitched forward onto the cobblestones. The heavy pouch of money Brookie had given me dropped out of my pocket. Before I could recover it, the scarred man snatched it up and pulled it open.

“What’s this?” he asked. “Little moneybags here brought us a present.”

“How much?” the braided woman asked.

The scarred man dug into my pouch and pulled out a fistful of the sparkling triangular coins. “A Mark each sounds fair,” he said. He tossed one to the black knight, the braided woman, and three other armored companions that hadn’t spoken up much. They gave hoots of excitement as they caught their stolen coins.