The cool autumn air was of little comfort to Vakdragnar as he stormed out of the Guardhouse. His throat felt ragged from the interrogation. It wasn’t as though he was expecting the city to welcome him with a parade, but damn, a smile would have been nice. The city guard had evidently come to the conclusion that he came to Tirough with dark intentions. That couldn’t be further from the truth as far as Vak was concerned. Vile influences perhaps necessitated the flight from his home and tribe, but his only intention was to try and do some good where he could.  

He tried to take a moment to breathe in the cool air. He knew he was allowing himself to be worked up over the indignity of hours of probing questions. When he was finally released they had been very specific about his permission within the walls. He was not to cause trouble, and he was not to be anywhere near trouble should it spring up entirely outside his control. 

So, losing my temper at this moment would be a poor decision, he thought. 

The indignation he suffered was easy enough to get over. He understood a place had to be wary of outsiders; that the axe he had brought with him was dangerous. He left it freely, if it meant he was upholding the peace. Next they had demanded he change clothing. He now wore a long, bright orange sleeved shirt made of an inferior cloth. It chafed as he walked but they’d been adamant that he couldn’t go around town shirtless. He felt like he stood out, even walking in the dark. 

He let out a held breath as he rounded a corner; avoiding a small mound of trash littering the cobblestone street as he did. The city had been quite hard to get into, and Vak was certain it was not worth it. The walls bred indiscretion, crime. 

People are walled off from their neighbors. How can they have a community when there are such permanent barriers impeding them? How long before your neighbor is no longer part of us and starts to be a them?

Vak wasn’t sure he was making a lot of sense, the concept was hard for him to put into words exactly. It just felt like everyone was isolated, separate, and certainly no community. 

He turned a final corner to find his destination up ahead: the Flame’s Fondness. A tavern where Vak could find work. He’d been told he needed to find a job this evening or he would be ejected from the city. That suited him fine, his intent was to make an honest living here. 

The Flame’s Fondness was not a large tavern, nor was it especially clean. Its food was far from the passable, and its drinks had a reputation for being watered down. Vak tried neither, as he had no currency to his name; just the ugly shirt on his back. Despite all this, Vak’s mood lightened as he entered the premises. To Vak the tavern was wondrous. He’d never been in a tavern before and found that the stories he read did very little to capture its presence. 

The room was crowded to the point of standing, the tables and chairs had been abandoned for a few hours now as most patrons were three or four drinks in, at least. Everything smelled like sweat and beer and the air had a stale quality to it, but the people made up for all that. The people were lively and so diverse. He looked around the room and saw one hundred different people with one hundred different stories. He wondered how much time he’d need to speak to so many and hear their tales. It would have to come later, for now there was one man he needed to speak with first. 

He pushed his way to the front receiving very strange looks from everyone. Some stepped out of his way, others intentionally blocked his path while posturing. Vak had no interest in starting any altercations, so he apologized and went around. 

While the other patrons actions weren’t welcoming, neither were they threatening, at least not to Vak. Most of them were a head shorter than Vak and nearly all of them drunk enough to affect their ability to defend themselves. Still, it took him a few minutes to get his way up to the bar. 

“What’ll it be stranger?” The balding man behind the bar asked. He had a long braided beard and while his belly hung below his belt, his eyes had a sharpness to them that Vak liked. 

“I am called Vakdragnar, and I am looking for work.” Vak replied. The bartender shook his head pointing to his ear, so Vak repeated himself louder. 

“Ah, good to meet you stranger. I’m Rowland Flame, I run this colorful place. Well, we’re pretty busy tonight. I could give you a few coppers to take some drinks to some tables.” 

“No!” Vak said adamantly and then had to remind himself he was the one begging for work. He quickly added; “No, thank you, I am looking for more… dangerous work.” 

“Oh, a Dungeon Crawler?”

“What?”

“An adventurer, someone seeking fame, wealth, or powerful items thought lost to time.”

“I want to be a hero.” Vak told him, voicing his dream for the first time out loud. It happened like a reflex and he wished he could take back the embarrassing words as soon as he said them. He considered that he sounded like an absolute fool. A small shame squirreled its way into his gut and Vak thoughts immediately went to his father. He would have laughed at Vak had he ever told him his wish. The bartender pointed to his ear again and Vak, very relieved, replied, “Yes, an adventurer.”

“Well, I don’t know about any lost artifacts near Tirough. Most of the places around here have been picked clean by different parties. But how are you at Missing Persons?” 

“I am skilled in tracking, i think this would not be a problem.” 

“Perfect! my waitress never showed up to her shift tonight.”

“Does she neglect work a lot?”

Stolen story; please report.

“No. Girl never misses a chance to collect tips. I’m worried something’s happened to her.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“Her name is Nina Hale. A clever girl, far too clever to be working here in this place. She’s about this high.” Rowland added indicating with his hand that she came just below his nose. “She’s got curly hair down to her shoulders.”

“Color?”

“Depends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well she’s been getting into this dye trend that’s been going around town. That new Alchemist, Wither’s her name. She’s been trying to drum up business by selling the local kids this sludge that makes your hair all sorts of crazy colors.”

“I… see… well what was her hair color the last time you saw her?”

“Blonde er well Brunette, Kind of one fading into the other. It's hard to explain.” 

“And when was this?”

“Last night when that good for nothing boyfriend of hers picked her up.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Oh sure, new guy, kinda swarmy if you ask me. I mean he just happened to be waiting around to walk her home? Give me a break! He’s trying to wear her down, mark my words.” Rowland said leaning in conspiratorially. 

“No, I mean, does he have a name, a residence within the city?”

“Oh, yeah its Destin Huxley, he’s the baker's son, you’ll find him just down the road, but they’re closed for the night.” 

“And anything else about Nina,  her age, and an address I can start my search?”

“She’s going on seventeen now I think, damn time surely does fly. She has a place down by the dock. I’ve been trying to convince her to move up closer to the guardhouse but she says she likes the sound of the ships coming in.”

“Thank you, I think I have enough to go on.”

“So, you’ll look for her?” Rowland asked relieved.

“Certainly.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ve got ten gold for you if you bring her back safely.”  

“Wait a damn minute, Rowland!” A strange woman dressed entirely in red robes said interrupting. “Are you cutting us out of a job?” 

“Cassie! I didn’t mean anything buy it. I figured this was too small time for you.” Rowland told her. 

“Well, we have first refusal rights, and I’m invoking that right on behalf of Shattershade.” Cassie told him. “Nothing personal, big guy.” She added brushing back her short orange hair and offering Vak a wink. “Ten gold is ten gold.”

“Well, that’s… Thank you. Tell Braid he has my deepest appreciation.” Rowland grovelled. 

“Not to worry. We are here to help the people after all.” She told him dismissively. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vakdragnar.” Rowland said. “It’s just they’re Shattershade. They’ve done great things for this town, and if Nina is in trouble I don’t want to leave things up to chance.”

“No apology necessary.” Vak told him with a small nod. He walked away from the bar defeated. He truly meant it, though. While Vak wanted to be a hero he knew that in the bartender’s place he’d likely make the same call. Vak was unknown, and it was hard to trust in what you did not know over someone you did. He’d walked out the back door of the tavern in search for a place to be alone. Despite this tavern being a big stone prison, it seemed it did not have a mensroom. 

The alley was empty and so Vak leaned up against a wall to take a piss. He replayed the conversation over in his mind allowing himself to feel foolish for thinking he could walk into a bar like the stories and start his quest to be a hero. Of course real life didn’t work like that. For the second time in an hour a small shame knot appeared in his stomach. He breathed out trying to calm the irritation when he felt the sharp prick of a knife in his shoulder blades. 

“Listen here, chump. All those muscles and your height don’t mean a damn when you have a knife pointed at your back.” A low voice said from behind him. Vak tensed and immediately felt the knife pierce his back just a bit. “Now, now.” The voice chided. “Don’t get any ideas There are three of us and one of you, and all we want is your money.”

“You must be a very poor thief.” Vak told him.

“What in the hells did you just say?”

“A smarter cutpurse would make sure his targets had any money. I do not.” 

“Don’t you fuck with me. You’ve got exactly three seconds to give me all your coin.”

“I already told you I have none, a time limit will not change that.” 

“Your funeral, asshole.” The man said as Vak felt the knife plunge into the back. The anger washed over Vak like a cold bucket of ice. He spun around and his assailant looked shocked Vak was still standing. Vak held back as he smacked the cutpurse with the back of his hand. It would not do to have corpses turn up the day he got into town, especially in the alley behind a bar where a lot of witnesses could place him. Besides, these men, did not deserve to die. 

The cutpurse still went down hard, smacking his head against the wall and landing in a small puddle. His two friends each drew knives and advanced on Vak. The rage that warred within him threatened to bubble over as he kept it in check. A swirling reddish wind kicked up around him. The cool night air became very dry. 

Vak smacked the knives out of their hands as they each lunged at him one at a time. Vak smiled. I am not the only fool in this city. They should be attacking at the same moment, so they could split my attention. 

The closest burglar cried out and held his hand. It was at an awkward angle and Vak thought he might have broken it when he disarmed him. Luckily he didn’t literally disarm him. But they both kind of stumbled away clearly wanting nothing more to do with this. They left their friend.

Vak bent over to pick up the poor thief. Brought his face out of the puddle so he didn’t drown and sat him up against the wall. 

He will be very sore in the morning and disappointed he is none the richer. 

Vak considered for a moment what to do. He could turn him into the authorities perhaps even get into their good graces. Then he remembered their warning against altercations and he sighed. He could feel the rage washing off him like a calming wave and he pulled the knife from his back and dropped it to his feet. 

Vak was in a bit of a bind. This man had tried to kill him, something he didn’t particularly blame him for. Vak suspected city life would drive anyone to murder. If Vak let him go, however, then anything this man did the next night would be on him. 

Vak punched a wall in frustration, letting his anger get the better of him. The stone rippled and fell away around his fist as easily as if he’d drove his hand into a pool of water. Do they really expect this brittle stone to protect them? 

He decided mulling over decisions was not his strong suit, as he picked up the thief as though he was a sack of potatoes. He hid the knife carefully inside his belt as he decided it was not wise to leave it brandished. Then he began making the long walk back to the guardhouse, as stealthily as he could. He would have to risk angering the guardsmen in order to do what he decided was right.