The Twins were rising by the time Nicos returned to the bar that Eurya had appropriated. A familiar man in red greeted the boy, as he entered the dreary building.

"Nicos," the Keeper greeted warmly. "Welcome back."

"Keeper." Nicos bowed his head. "Is my teacher awake?"

The blind man snorted, then gestured deeper into the bar. Nicos followed his direction, and saw Eurya, awake, and—

He blinked.

Sitting on a pile of locals. She reclined, drink in hand, on a throne of feebly twitching bodies. Noticing his gaze, she raised her glass in greeting. The rest of the bar was nearly empty, and what few people remained flinched at her movement.

"Nicos!" she called. "Come drink with me!"

"It's dawn, teacher," he replied dryly.

"Is it?"

Come to think of it...

"It's dawn," Nicos repeated. "Where did all of these people come from?"

Eurya glanced down at the tangle of limbs she balanced upon. With an affectionate pat on the closest shoulder, she said, "These were from last night. They were making a ruckus, disturbing my sleep, and protested when I told them to be quiet."

Nicos glanced helplessly at the Keeper. The blind man shrugged in return.

"I returned well past dusk," he told the boy. "She said she was having too much fun to stop."

Nicos raised an eyebrow, well aware that Eurya, ostensibly, worked for the Keeper.

The Keeper shrugged once more, seemingly aware of his thoughts. "She's a terrible hireling."

"And don't you ever forget it!" the cheerful woman shouted from across the room. Her eyes flicked to Nicos. "Did you accomplish what you set out to?"

Nicos frowned. "There was little I could realistically do, teacher."

"As yourself, no," she agreed, "but you planted the seeds, yes?"

The boy considered her words, and nodded. "I suppose I did."

"Now you must wait, and see if they grow." She raised her glass to him once more, then downed it in a single gulp. "Be a gardener, Nicos. It's a much safer way of living." She wiped her mouth, and grinned.

"Now, let us be rid of this place."

----------------------------------------

Nicos had assumed they would leave the city without fanfare. His adventure in the slave market had gone more or less unnoticed, except by the slaves themselves. He had kept his discussions with the more spirited members quiet, and he doubted that they were ones to share. Before Vaughn Cardin's caravan returned from the desert, there was almost no reason for anyone in Bastion to take more than a moment's notice of Nicos.

What he had failed to consider was that the same was not true of his teacher. Her tendency to utterly disregard the opinions and expectations of others had been less pronounced in Farathun; or perhaps Nicos had simply been too distracted to notice. In Bastion, she was perfectly happy to loudly trumpet her own power and ability to anyone and everyone in the vicinity. She strolled the dangerous city streets without a care in the world, arrogance dripping from every movement. It drew... challengers.

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Eurya was not subtle in putting them down.

This was the reason, Nicos quickly realized, why his master loved to visit Bastion. Here, she could act without restraint. She seemed to revel in the lawlessness of the place, in how her own strength was an authority in of itself. And though Nicos had yet to see her kill a single person within the city walls, she left a trail of unconscious bodies in her wake.

"Think of it like maintenance," she told him, as she used her sheathed sword to crack an attacker's ribs. The man fell, wheezing in agony, and Eurya kicked him through a nearby merchant's cart. Goods scattered across the ground, and people dove for the free merchandise.

"I make a point to visit, every fifty or so years," she continued, not even breaking stride. "Bastion's population is constantly fluctuating. The people in charge are constantly changing. Their Memory is short. I have to remind them of my existence, every now and then."

They walked down what passed for a major street in the city. Hundreds of eyes watched their progress, even as people scrambled into alleys and made way. Eurya walked in the center of the path, gleefully slapping aside anyone brave enough to stand before her.

"Why not kill them?" Nicos asked, casting a disdainful glare at the observing scum. "You'd be doing the city a service."

Eurya shook her head. "What would be the point? There are more. Always, there are more. I could empty this city, and the next time I pass, it would be full. The only difference is the Memory I leave in my wake."

"These people do not deserve mercy," Nicos replied. His mind wandered back to the slave markets. He could not fight the city, but his master, perhaps, could do so. If only she were motivated.

Eurya scoffed. "Deserve's got nothing to do with it."

"Death would have a larger impact on Memory," Nicos tried. "For the survivors, at least. They would fear you."

"These people do not fear death, Nicos," his teacher replied. Even as she spoke, her hand snapped up, snatching a hurled spear out of the air. She lobbed it back at its owner, an armored man hiding on a nearby roof, without turning the weapon. The blunt end struck the man in the groin, caving in his armor. He tumbled off the building with a resounding crash, letting out a prolonged squeal of agony.

Every man within earshot winced.

"Humiliation has a much greater impact," Eurya commented with a smile.

The challenges stopped, after that. The trio made their way to the far end of the city, on the opposite side of the desert. The walls were similarly uninspiring, poorly maintained and fragile. Open wide to invasion. What Nicos had once assumed to be weakness, he now knew to be simple practicality. No army would ever invade this dump. What use for it could they possibly find?

He felt his respect for Vaughn Cardin dipping even lower. He wanted to rule this place? Nicos should have desecrated the man's corpse.

The boy and his teachers approached the gates, Eurya whistling some jaunty tune, when she suddenly paused. She spun on her heel, head cocked, and eyes narrowed. Nicos turned with her, following her gaze. A group of warriors had congregated some distance behind them. It was nothing unusual, various groups had followed the trio off and on throughout the city, but these seemed different, somehow.

It was instinct, Nicos realized, the collective experience of his ancestors, influencing his Memory. It whispered to him, telling him that these were not average fighters. That they stood above their peers. And there were dozens of them.

Nicos remained unimpressed. Above average in a place like this was weaker than even the weakest mercenary of Farathun. Nevertheless, quantity held a certain quality of its own. Nicos quietly adjusted his grip on his sword, and looked to his master for direction.

Eurya's lips were parted in an amused smile. She shouted across to the crowd, "Have you business with me and mine?"

"Eurya Longstrider!" a voice bellowed from behind the armed men. The gathered warriors parted way, as their leader strode to the front. He was a huge man, with light skin and a shaved head, clad in heavy armor. He carried a long axe in one hand, the blade as wide as Nicos' torso. He held it in one hand, letting it loosely lean against his shoulder.

The boy's instincts screamed danger at him. The man was stronger, even, than Thing had been. An unusual find, in this forsaken place. His voice was deep and strong, and echoed off the nearby buildings, as he bellowed Eurya's name.

"I am," she confirmed cheerfully. Her hair fluttered in the wind, and her wrist rested against the hilt of her sword.

The man visibly gathered himself, after hearing her response. He drew in a deep breath and bellowed, "Eurya Longstrider! Seventy years ago, you drove my family from its seat of power! You slew my grandfather, and two of my great-uncles! You shattered our reputation, and drove us into the depths of despair! I am here to—"

"Don't care," Eurya interrupted, silencing the man with a simple word. She raised her sheathed blade, pointing it at her armored foe. "Fight or flee. Pick one."

The man purpled with rage, then hefted his axe. His face twisted into a snarl, as he howled, "Fight!"