A mug of beer got slammed on the tavern counter. A pair of hairy hands cracked an egg and poured the yolk inside, then took the mug to the table in the corner. The cloaked figure stood with his hands joined on the table, waiting impatiently.

"It's okay, no one is eyeing you", Otto reassured the figure, sliding the mug across the table. “Apparently, there’s been a crime in town and every guard is looking for the criminal”

Han removed the cloak and took three gulps from the beer. After he put the mug down, he stared at the foam, obviously lost in his thoughts.

"You're alright?", Otto asked.

"Hmm? Yeah... Just wondering if I bit more than I could chew this time"

"That's a first. Next thing I know, you'll turn honest"

"In a world as twisted as this, even people like me are honest, Otto"

"Whatever, just drink your beer, you mopey fuck", Otto said with a grin, going back to the bar to serve clients.

Han finished the rest of his beer in one go, then got up and pulled the cloak back over his head. Out in the street, it was already getting dark. Gas lamps illuminated windows in a warm yellow light. The sound of dogs barking mixed into the soundscape of the street. The air was salty and cold, due to the breeze of the sea. Ship horns and seagulls cried in the distance. The cold feel of the book strapped to Han's back gave him a chill.

A girl dressed in a corset and short, flailed skirt approached Han, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hey, mister! You seem to be quite lonely!", she said with a soft, suave voice.

"I am, but you're ruining it", Han shot back, making the girl scoff and walk away. "You can keep them!"

"What?", she asked, her voice lower and angrier than before.

"The money you stole from me", he continued. "What world would we live in if there was honor among thieves, right?"

She groaned and turned around, disappearing into a side street. Han sighed, then decided to head to the post office before departing, to send a last-minute letter to the person he was supposed to meet.

The post office was a small and cramped, but cozy and warm building, with a nice old lady behind the counter. Han finished writing the letter, put the fountain pen down, then folded it, placed the letter inside the envelope, licked the flap, and sealed the envelope. He took a long stare at the stamps: they displayed the port town, with its name, Astos, written underneath. He wished he still had his own stamps with him, the ones from various places he visited in the past years. Still, he was about to leave town that night, so it didn't matter. He stuck the stamps to the envelope, then handed it to the lady and left.

"Have a lovely night!", the woman said.

"Thanks, ma'am! You too!"

Outside, he looked up at the silhouette of the church, pondering if he should return the book before departing. His gaze lowered to street level the moment he heard a loud thud.

“You damn idiot!”, a butch man yelled at his son, who just dropped a crate of ice and fish on the cobblestone street. “You can’t fish, you can’t carry a crate, the only thing you do well is eating my food and waste my time!”

He started hitting the young boy across the face. The boy, no older than seven, kneeled down and attempted to scoop the ice and the fish with his hands and put them back in the crate. His father switched from slapping to kicking, knocking the air out of the boy’s lungs and leaving him wheezing on his back. Still angry, face red as a tomato, the man went for another kick when a swift punch to the chin knocked him on his back as well, falling like a log. Han shook his hand in pain after punching far above his weight class.

“I hate your kind the most, you vile sonofabitch”, Han said to the knocked out man before kneeling next to the boy and helping him get up.

“Daddy?”, the boy cried out, yanking himself free from Han’s hands and lunging forward to hug his father. “Why did you hurt him?”

Hearing that, Han’s expression grew sour. He stood up and gave the boy a disappointed look.

“You got to learn to look out for yourself, kid. You better run away soon, while you’re not bitter enough to slit his throat first”

Han walked away, heading for the docks. The ships arriving and leaving port were all reflected in the water, appearing as butterflies, symmetrically placed on the horizon line. The seagulls were louder. Han took a deep breath in. Maybe I should just lower my guard, let Astrid catch up, he thought. Let her end it all. She deserves it, even I can attest to that...

A blind man was singing at a lute, somewhere by the edge of a pier. His hat was filled with coins, all rounding up to maybe two crown. Han stopped next to him, listening to the man play a melancholic sailor song. When he was done, the man raised his head toward Han, his lame pupils staring directly into his eyes.

"Spare a coin?", he asked, his voice coarser and shakier than when he performed.

Han said nothing, then simply walked away. But the blind man's voice echoed inside his head. Echoed...

*

Echoed... The saleswoman's voice echoed inside Syndell's head, among thousands of other voices. All crying out in pain, asking why they had to die. Syndell rubbed her temples, annoyed. She looked up: the moon was shining bright above her head, a pale yellow that seemed to radiate.

"I need a drink...", she muttered to herself.

She found Otto's tavern and walked in, instantly hit in the face by the thick, warm air that smelled like booze and sweat. A bunch of loud men all got quiet for a second as she walked down the stairs, some of them whistling. Otto was cleaning a mug with a rag, setting it on the counter next to the beer tap. Syndell sat at the counter, next to him.

"What do I get you, love?", Otto asked.

"Something strong", Syndell replied.

"That would be me", a hairy dock worker with a scar across his nose suddenly said.

The man was positioned to Syndell's left, but she had her back turned at him, not even bothering to glance from the corner of her eye, let alone turn around.

"You'd have a greater chance by buying me a shot", Syndell said.

Otto arched his brow and glanced at the worker, smiling. The dock worker gave a nod and flipped a coin to Otto, who caught it midair, then poured Syndell a shot of rum. Syndell downed the shot in an instant, then exhaled with satisfaction.

"Name's Kipp", the worker said, trying to get a look at Syndell's face. "What's yours?"

"None of your fucking business", Syndell shot back, getting Otto's attention.

"You said I'd have a greater chance--"

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"Everything is greater than a negative number, bozo, even zero". A beat; she glanced at him and cracked a grin. "I doubt your tiny little meatball brain can grasp the concept, though"

The man sprung to his feet, enraged, knocking his stool down in the process. People's attention shifted to the scene.

"You owe me for that shot, you bitch! Turn around and face me!"

"Why? I bet you're an eyesore"

Kipp yelled and threw a punch that Syndell caught in her left palm without even looking. A collective gasp erupted. Otto reached under the counter for a bat that he kept to keep order.

Syndell suddenly turned her head to face Kipp, in a swift, insect-like motion that frightened Kipp. He struggled to free his fist from Syndell's hand. She twisted his wrist with a loud crack, making the man yell in pain, then kicked his right knee with force, bending his leg backward, like a bird's. When she released his fist, Kipp instantly fell on the floor, wailing and whimpering, crawling away using his good hand. Everybody else was on their feet, pale as a sheet, silent, trembling at the sight of the young woman that was scanning the room with her gaze.

"What's the matter?", she yelled, her voice echoing throughout the silent tavern. "Y'all were so cocky a minute ago!". A beat. She saw Otto's silhouette moving from the corner of her eye. "What's your name, bartender?"

"Otto", he replied, lowering his voice in an attempt to not have it crack from fear.

"Put the bat down, Otto. It's metal, but I'll still tie it around your neck like a rope"

A loud clanking sound echoed for a few seconds.

"Another shot", she then demanded.

"Sure... On the house", Otto confirmed.

In the background, Kipp was still wailing in pain, his body squeaking across the tavern floorboards as he dragged himself toward the stairs. Otto placed a shot in front of Syndell and she downed it in an instant once more. She flipped her ring on her finger, a gesture that caught Otto's attention.

"Nice ring", he said. "You're married?"

Syndell groaned.

"Not asking for myself", he continued. "I have a buddy that would need an ass-wooping, though. To bring him with his feet back to Earth. Thinks he's the smartest man alive or something"

"Sounds like an ass", Syndell said, gesturing for another shot.

"He is". Otto placed the shot down. "But he's not so bad"

"Mhm...". She downed the shot, then rubbed her temples. "I'm not too hot on the idea of marriage, sadly. Sounds like volunteering myself into babysitting a grown-ass man, and for what?"

"Love? Isn't that what you galls look for?". He smiled. "I think it's a beautiful thing"

"Are you married, Otto?"

"Was to the sea, before arriving here and opening up this tavern. But not married to a woman, no"

"Yeah, no fucking surprise, talking like that", she said, getting up and leaving.

The moment she slammed the door behind her, a collective sigh, muffled by the distance, could be heard coming from the tavern. Far from being buzzed, but visibly bored, Syndell decided to look for fun elsewhere before the ship departed. Before she took her first step on the street, she stopped her foot in midair and looked down at Kipp, who almost got stepped on by her. Kipp glanced up like a wounded puppy.

"Don't?", he whimpered.

With a blank expression, Syndell proceeded to step on the man's good hand on her way across the street.

*

Midnight.

The town lights reflected in the water, broken into thousands of lights by the ripples. Han and Syndell met at dock seven, as promised. In the distance, a blind lute player was singing a melancholic, eerie song. The song sent chills down Han's back, and even Syndell seemed disturbed by it.

"Om karala-badanam ghoram mukta-keshim chatur-bhuryam.

kalikam dakshinam dibyam munda-mala bibhushitam

sadya-chinna shira kharga bama-dordha karambujam

abhayam baradan-chaiba dakshina-dardha panikam"

Han looked at Syndell, who appeared almost hypnotized by the man.

"He was singing better songs a bit earlier", he said. "Can't even understand what language is he singing in"

"It's Sanskrit", Syndell told him, snapping out of her trance. "He's singing a mantra to Mahakali"

"Maka-who?"

"Doesn't matter. We got a ship to board"

"Right... About that...", Han told her, getting a cold look in return. "I think my initial arrangement with the guy that was supposed to sneak us in is null and void"

"He double-crossed you, huh?"

"He double-crossed someone else and got his leg broken like a twig, so he's not working tonight. At least that's what his boss said"

"Ohhhh... you gotta be fucking kidding me!"

"What?"

"Nothing... But I think you can still figure something out, right, Han?"

Han smiled, then cracked his knuckles. He walked away to one of the workers who was loading crates into a ferry.

"Hey there, good man! Wanna make five crown?"

"No. Fuck off!", the worker shut him down instantly, taking Han by surprise and silencing him for a few seconds.

"Not... open to reconsidering?"

"Listen here, I got a family to feed, and I don't need port guards to beat me up and jail me for a month, all for five crown. Now scram before I crack your head open like a watermelon, punk!"

Han did a heel turn and walked away, trying to figure out a plan.

"So, I don't hold a candle to a port guard, am I?", he muttered to himself.

Just that moment, on another dock, a transport of pigs was being unloaded. Han gestured for Syndell to follow him, and they headed for the merchant.

"Han, you solved the issue with the dock worker?", she asked while they picked up the pace.

"Not yet. We'll sneak inside after the guards make him solve his mess"

"His mess?"

"You'll see. Go buy a brush, paint, and some grease", he said, giving her a quarter crown coin. "I'm down to two crown, so make it count"

Confused, but intrigued, Syndell left for the shops on the docks while Han went to talk to the pig merchant.

"How much for a piglet?"

"One crown", the merchant answered.

"I'll buy three for two crowns. Not like you'll sell three in a night, so I'm making you a favor"

"Make me another favor and fuck off!", the merchant snapped, then clicked his tongue. "The nerve on some people..."

"Come on! Be a decent guy! I promise you... Two crown, and you'll get them back, too!"

The merchant rubbed his chin, intrigued.

"So you'll rent them, you say?"

"That's right! Rent them for a few hours"

A few minutes later, Han and Syndell met behind an abandoned shack. Three piglets were tied to a post, a sight that made Syndell burst into laughter.

"What the hell is this?", she asked.

"We'll grease the little guys, let them loose on pier seven, and call some guards. Knowing how lazy they are, they'll make the dock worker catch them. That's when we'll sneak in. By the time he's done, the ship will already leave", Han explained, painting a '1' on the first piglet.

"Even if the piglets are greased, I figure he'll catch them pretty fast", Syndell said.

"Oh, no, he won't! I played this prank a lot when I was a kid". Han drew a '2' on the second piglet. "There was this farm that two friends and I kept breaking in, stealing piglets, greasing them, and letting them loose inside the yards of people we hated. The secret is to never let them know when they're done searching". Finally, on the third piglet, he drew a '4'.

"You're one messed up guy, you know that?"

Han snickered and started greasing the piglets.