Isaac woke as the first light of dawn shone through the eastern window. He sat up on the couch and rubbed his face. He slept well despite the usual nightmares and felt the most rested he had in years, at least since before the Tarid invasion. A belly of freshly cooked food, full-strength wine, and a couch that was better than most beds Isaac had ever seen.

Frederick and Mark stirred and sat upright shortly after Isaac, Svarja continued snoring on her couch.

"I slept great," Mark said in a low voice as he stretched. "Haven't had a bed this nice since I last had leave before the war, and this time I had the entire bed to myself," he continued with a grin.

Isaac stood up and made his way to the window. The neighborhood surrounding Owen's workshop and home was fairly quiet, but Isaac could already hear the noises of the city beginning to rise in volume.

Frederick joined Isaac by the window.

"That's where we'll be going," he said, pointing broadly at some location in the distance. "We'll need to hurry if we hope to conclude our business and make it back to the others by sunset. As much as I enjoyed not sleeping on the ground I don't want to impose on Owen for a second night."

The sound of an opening door caused Frederick and Isaac to turn around. Owen entered with a basket containing several small loaves of dark bread in one hand and a small, wooden tray with cheese and a knife in the other.

"Oh, good, you're already awake," Owen said as he put his items down on the table in the middle of the room. "Well, most of you, anyways," he added with a nod towards the still-snoring Svarja.

"I'll wake her," Mark said. Before Frederick or Isaac could say anything he grabbed Svarja by the shoulder and shook her gently. Her eyes flashed open, she grabbed Mark by the wrist and twisted it around, forcing his arm behind his back as she rose from the couch, hooking her leg between his and Mark landed face-down on the floor with a heavy thud.

"Svarja! It's alright, it's just us," Frederick called out in a firm tone. The blonde woman turned, and blinked several times before she turned to look down at the man pinned to the floor beneath her. She released her grip and stood, helping Mark up while apologizing.

"No need to apologize," Mark said while rubbing his wrist, "it was my fault. I wasn't thinking, shouldn't have touched you."

The group ate quickly and donned their armor, Frederick eager to get moving. He and Owen exchanged their goodbyes, the others thanked their host for his hospitality before heading out into the city. The air was already an uncomfortable temperature, Isaac's nose assaulted by an unpleasant mixture of coal fires and baking, human and animal waste, and other pungent scents he couldn't identify. The streets formed a bewildering maze through densely packed buildings, Isaac wasn't sure he could find anything in a place like this without Frederick to guide him.

The streets were lined with beggars in rags, calling out in raspy voices to passersby who largely ignored them. All were filthy, many were covered in sores and coughed between their requests for alms. Frederick ignored them all and walked purposefully past their outstretched hands, head held high. He lead his companions across a large, stone bridge. Beneath it Isaac could see the grand river that flowed through the heart of the city was reduced to a fraction of its former size. Downstream he could see the barrel wagons from the day before being filled with river water to spray on the surrounding fields and people picking their way up and down the rocks with buckets in hand.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Across the bridge and down more winding streets Frederick lead his escorts into a bustling market square. Shops with windows boarded up faced inwards, carts and stalls filling the open ground in the middle. In addition to the usual merchants calling out their wares and haggling customers were men armed with clubs, some standing near the exits or by the entrances to larger shops, others slowly walked through the stalls to make their presence known.

"Where to first, Commander?" Mark asked looking around at the stalls.

"We're not buying from this lot," Frederick replied, "the prices they charge would leave me destitute. No, I have a contact at a warehouse where we'll buy direct."

Frederick approached a narrow road leading out of the market when a commotion erupted in the square behind him. Isaac and the others looked back, hands dropping to their weapons, and saw one of the burly men holding a skeletally thin girl, perhaps fifteen or so but given how small she was it was hard to tell, by both wrists with one of his hands. She was begging, pleading to be let go, sobbing about how hungry she and her brother were and promising she would never come back, but the market guard kept his grip tight.

"I caught this girl stealing fruit, seen her snatch it with my own eyes!" the man shouted at everyone around him. Some stopped what they were doing, others ignored the scene and went about their business.

"A sneak thief?" Svarja whispered to Isaac, who nodded in response.

"This is what we do with thieves here!" the man shouted over the girl's ongoing pleas for mercy. He took the club in his right hand and struck her hard in the gut. Her pleas stopped as the wind was knocked out of her and her legs buckled but the guard's grip held firm. He held her up, legs dangling, as he struck her twice more, body shuddering with each blow. Mark uttered an Ostervallan curse as Svarja and Isaac each took a step before Frederick stopped them and shook his head.

The guard dropped his club to the ground and pulled back his arm, fist clenched, and struck the girl hard in the face. She went limp and the man dropped her to the ground. He gestured at another guard, who dragged her unconscious body away.

"Anyone else think of stealin' from my market, that's what'll happen to 'em!"

"Come, let's keep moving." Frederick said. The group made their way through the winding streets.

"We should have intervened." Svarja stated after a few moments of silence.

"I agree, that was excessive." Isaac replied.

"He wore a merchant's guild patch." Frederick stated.

"What?" Svarja asked with a furrowed brow.

"The guard wore a patch bearing the merchant's guild symbol," Frederick continued, tapping the left side his chest, "here, which means he was officially in charge of keeping the market safe and running smoothly. Commerce can't function if people are stealing everything without consequence."

"That was no mere 'consequence'," Svarja snorted, "he could have killed her."

"What would you have the guards do?" Frederick asked. "Let her go without punishing her?"

"Of course not!" Svarja exclaimed, "Sneak thieves must be held accountable for their crimes."

"I'm surprised a northerner condemns stealing." Mark said.

"When my people go on raids we do so boldly, in the open," Svarja began, her finger in Mark's face, "we do not skulk about in shadows taking things without giving the owners a chance to fight back and stop us."

"Then why are you so upset about her being stopped?"

"Because that was just cruelty for its own sake!" Svarja nearly shouted. "Where I come from, restitution for inflicting a loss on someone is limited to three of what was taken, and if you cannot pay in goods or money you pay in labor until the debt is settled. We do not beat starving girls nearly to death over an apple or a pear, and yet you southerners do things like that," she said as she gestured back towards the market, "and say my people are barbaric."

"Listen, Svarja, I don't like it any more than you do," Frederick began as he stopped and looked the northern woman in the eye. She clenched her jaw tight but said nothing as she rubbed her thumb along the heads of the hand axes hanging from her belt.

"But the world is a cruel place and the hardship of the drought is only making it crueler," Frederick continued. "Merchants won't stay in business if they can't be sure their goods will be safe, and even if the guards are a bit excessive in how they deal with thieves, that's guild business. They're legally entitled to protect their members and oversee the actions of those in their employ."

"Now, let's get moving," Frederick said as he put a reassuring hand on Svarja's shoulder for a moment, "we're almost at our destination. Then we can leave the city and all its ugliness behind."