Being shaken awake, must have nodded off. As I look around, it must be late as there are a few more people in here, and more pouring in. I look at who has shook me, and it is a beautiful, golden-blonde bar wench. Her loose, flowing skirt is not hiding those lovely legs.

Looking around, well, I am not doing much here. Am I supposed to stand around and look intimidating? Maybe I should ask one of the veterans. Looking at those two bully boys, my best bet is to choose the oldest, if that is what he is. The one with the cauliflower ear and broken nose, with a jagged scar across it. He might be friendly; that would make a change.

“Hey, I am new to this whole bouncer thing. Could you give me a few pointers?” He looks at me like I am a bad smell under his nose.

“Bloody Corbin! Another fish,” he growls. “Okay, Fishy. I'll say this only once, so listen up!” Fishy? Original. Usually, it is arseface, or my personal favourite—dung-head. “If you see someone grabbing the staff before they pay Corbin for their time, bash them. If you see a fight, bash them. If one of these gutter trash hits one of us, we take them out back and make sure they don’t make that mistake again.”

Seems simple, really simple. “Sure thing. Bash anyone who gives us a wrong look. I can handle that.”

He looks at me and smiles with pearly whites—strange to see that. “But because you’re a newbie, no one will come to your rescue tonight till you’ve cracked a few skulls.”

Great, not too different from usual, then. “Crack heads.” Pipe in hand. “Can do.”

Maybe I should leave the charming man alone now? I cannot believe people would pay for these ladies. Well, perhaps the petite maiden with the beautiful, golden-blonde hair. Must be a quarterling.

“Hey, how much is she?”

The thug looks, then smirks at me weirdly. “Two hundred slips.”

What? Who is worth that? She might be, but still.

“She has a particular taste in clientele too.” He looks me up and down, again weirdly. Am I missing something? “She doesn't go for white-backs like you.”

Not that I could afford her. Nevertheless, that is a little racist for someone who is a half-breed themselves.

“Might never have the money anyway. What's her name?”

“Pela.”

He grins at me as I ogle Pela’s physique. Now it really feels like I am the butt of the joke. His smile does not sit well, but he is an old thug.

“You can take that section over there. If there’s trouble, deal with it.”

Great. Thanks, man-with-no-name. At least I have Pela to stare at. She’s waiting tables in my section—best news! As I watch, she looks at me and frowns.

Just give her a charming smile! Seems to work—she hides a smile herself, and maybe a giggle.

Cannot believe I have never been in this bar before. Smells like the dives at the docks, but seems to be a bit quieter than the Anvil. I have no idea how Corbin makes any money—his customers appear to be mainly workmen. Easy job, for not being paid.

Hold the presses, is that? Yes, it is! The Fellowship of the Sword. Even if I hate Malik’s Dock Boys, these Bloody Swords are even worse. If the rumours I have heard are true … Nah, there is no way they could get away with murdering a whole village because Roth and Viktor lost control. The Blue Aspect Inquisitors would never allow it, they would send their police to arrest them! They believe in the law too much to let this happen. It is great having the courts under control of the church.

But what are they doing in here? Helmut, Roth, Viktor, Vali, and hangers-on. Great, it seems that the whole gang is here—my mistake, I mean Charter, not gang. How can a fallen knight become a leader of a registered Charter?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

They are not in my section, though. The veteran guy needs to make sure he does not push that lot. Roth would butcher him with that cleaver of his.

“Hey!” Corbin is yelling. “Fight, idiot!”

Bloody typical. A couple of workmen fighting over most likely nothing.

“You two, cut it out!” I yell.

Ignored. Fine, then! Knees and elbows. Both of them drop with little effort.

“Oi, what’d you do that for?” one of the ugly men asks me. Like I care.

“I warned you two. Leave with teeth or without. Your choice.”

They pick themselves up, limping a little. “Fine. The women are better down at the docks anyway.”

That is true. Except for Pela … so swishy.

“Let’s go.” A quick death stare, then they are out the door. Good start.

What else is happening? Most of the hardened thugs are having a good laugh. At my expense, I guess. The Fellowship has not noticed me. That last beating they gave me was not fun. Wait up, is Pela serving them now? I know they could afford her. Bloody typical, Roth is going to have a go at her. I cannot watch this. There goes the eye candy. Bloody Roth. Huh? She must not like ape-men too. Lucky for me that I am not one. Maybe I have a chance after all. Roth goes for the grab.

Roth, such a butcher of a man with a face that even a mother would not love, adores his meat cleaver. I hope Pela will be alright. She seems to be a tough girl, laughing it off and slapping his hand playfully away. Good on you, girl. I guess you need to have thick skin working in a place like this. She returns with another round and Roth pulls her onto his lap with a little grope. She stands up, turns and slaps him across the face. Helmut and the others just laugh, but he is standing up now.

Should I involve myself? Looking around, none of the other 'bouncers' is moving toward that table. With the Bloody Swords’ reputation, this will get nasty soon.

“Hey, Roth!” I call over the crowd. “What are you doing over here?”

He looks up and yells, “Go away, little man, this has nothing to do with you! She slapped me, so now she is going to have to make it up to me!”

I walk over and step in front of Pela. “Well, Roth, I’m working here now, and I can’t have you manhandling the staff. Now, be a nice guy for once, have a drink on me. Then head down to the docks later and pick up someone who wants your charms.”

“What did you say to me?” He stands nose to nose with me, his rough face sneering. The spray of spittle is not pleasant. “I’m not good enough for this whore? And who are you to tell me who I can poke? Is that right, little man?”

“Roth, my friend, I did not mean that you are not an upstanding citizen with fantastic hygiene, but—”

At this point, the conversation ends with a left hook straight to my jaw. That hurts! As I fly back into another patron, I realise my mistake.

“Come on, lads, let’s drag this good for nothing outside and beat the living shit out of him!” Roth bellows.

Now I have made Roth an enemy. Great. Just need one more thug to try to kill me to make this a perfect day. Well, I gave my word to work here for the next two days, and this is part of the job. Cannot fight in here, though—it might turn into an all-out brawl.

“Okay, Roth, let's go outside,” I say, with an apologetic look towards the patron I bumped. “But do you really need these others to help your ‘manhood’ stay straight, or can you do it with your own hands—I mean, take it into your own hands?”

Score one for the dead man! As Roth’s face turns purple, Helmut stands up and, in an insanely quiet voice, says, “Roth, be a man. Fight one on one. It’s the honourable thing to do.”

Corbin walks over with a massive club slung over one shoulder. “Clear a space. We’ll have it in here.” He looks around and laughs. “Looks like we’ve got a show tonight, boys!”

Now with my luck of late, I cannot help wondering if this was a set-up. Or maybe I am just that lucky? Oh, well.

Corbin yells, “As I’m now running this contest, it’ll be with fists. No weapons! I don’t want to explain to the Watch why Roth killed someone in my saloon.”

A good laugh from the crowd. Great, everyone thinks I have already lost. Well, I can give as good as I get … maybe. Too late now. At least there is a gorgeous face watching … What? Pela is nowhere to be seen! Great, my luck has definitely turned.

I need to win some of this crowd over to my side. “Come on, people!” Turning to Roth now. “I’m going to crack your head with my fist! Yes, I will punch you so hard that … you will hurt bad!”

The crowd laughs at this; snickers ripple throughout the place. Roth turns to the crowd and points to a puddle at my feet. “See, he is already pissing himself!”

Someone must have spilt a drink between my legs—most likely Vali, that sneaky bastard! Now, this duel is an outright mockery. “Steel yourself and just fight!” Sarge always said. ‘If a fight is dirty, take any advantage you can.’

Good, he is distracted, insulting me to the crowd. Throwing all my weight behind it, I punch Roth in the small of his back. Then again—and again! Was that a crack? Well, I wasn't going to wait for him to be ready.

What? It had no effect? Roth turns, looks at me, roars and charges. Need to make this count! Sidestep him. Aim for the side of his neck. Hitting his shoulder—not the best plan. Damn it, that really hurt. My hand is not broken, though. Just shake it out.

Looking up, where is Roth? He is on the floor, not moving. Did I kill him with that shoulder shot? Oh, wait, no. He slipped on that puddle Vali made! Trinity is smiling upon me! Just have to finish this now. No one will miss him, after all.

Is that a shadow?