Melissa stared at Arwin’s extended hand like it were made of solid gold. Her eyes flicked up to his face. It was so silent in the room that Arwin could almost make out her heartbeat. Thought flashed through Melissa’s eyes but her features gave nothing away, the trained mask of a professional.

And, in that second, she found her choice. Her hand lifted to clasp Arwin’s. “If you can give me anything that gives me so much as a chance, then I accept. Any price you require so long as it leaves my family intact is acceptable.”

“I require nothing but the fame you will earn my work and future partnership. I won’t say no to some money once you have your feet back out under you, but that’s it,” Arwin said as they shook. He released Melissa’s hand and it dropped back to her side. “There’s only so far that weapons and armor can take you. If you want to deal with a threat this big, you’ll still need warriors.”

“Are you offering—”

Arwin shook his head before Melissa had finished her question. “Sorry. I am not. My guild are not mercenaries. I’ll outfit you. Anna and Lillia will heal you, and we’ll protect you while you’re in our walls, but we’re not going to start a war. We aren’t strong enough to, nor can we afford to.”

Melissa didn’t look surprised. She just nodded her understanding. “I understand. I still had to try.”

“Of course,” Arwin said, a small smile crossing over his features. He could still smell the tantalizing juice from the meal he and Lillia had made. Some more food sounded fantastic after a near crisis had been averted, but there was one more thing to handle before he could worry about that. “It’ll take me some time to get you a full set. None of my own guild even have something like that yet. I’ll need a week at the very least. Possibly more.”

“A week,” Melissa repeated. She rolled the words over in her mouth as if tasting them. Her expression was inscrutable. Her father really had trained her well as a merchant. The more she recovered from the residuals of the poison and got her feet out from under her, the harder it was to figure out what she was thinking or read any fear in her expression. “Far shorter than I would have expected for magical items, but still far longer than I would have liked. Even a day is too long to delay my task, but I was prepared for worse. I will find a place to stay.”

“Why look?” Lillia asked. “This one will work just fine. I guarantee you won’t find cheaper — or safer.”

“You have rooms?”

“The Devil’s Den is more than a tavern,” Lillia said with the smile of a business woman. Melissa wasn’t injured anymore, so selling to her was no longer a faux pas. “Only a silver for a night. I know you don’t have any money now, but you’ll need some if you plan to get anything accomplished. I imagine someone as resourceful as you can get a job quickly.”

“I… will try,” Melissa said hesitantly. “A silver is better than I expected. It is reasonable. I will do what I can to find a place to earn money.”

“We’ll set you up if you can’t,” Arwin promised. He clapped the girl on the shoulder gently to avoid accidentally hurting her, then turned to look at the drunkard in the corner of the tavern. He’d retreated to the shadows at the back of the room, but Arwin could still see his pure blue eyes as clear as day. “And that only leaves you.”

“What of me? You heard the girl,” the drunkard said with a wave of his empty tankard. The wall creaked as he pushed away from it and stepped into the dim lantern light. “She can’t afford a drink. Are you planning to cover it for her?”

“That’s a question for Lillia, but one I suspect she’d be happy to oblige if you answer one small question,” Arwin said. He leaned against the counter and met the drunkard’s gaze. “Who are you? I don’t think any of us believe that you’re just some random man that lives on our street anymore.”

“Your street?” the drunkard let out a snort and gestured at Arwin with the tankard in his hand. “You say that like you were the first here. This is my street, smith.”

“I won’t argue that you lived here first,” Arwin said with a grunt. Annoyance tugged at his stomach and his fingers drummed against the wooden counter. “And legally speaking, it’s our street. You lived here, but you never tried to improve anything. We fixed these shops. We’ve tried to improve things and make them livable.”

“They were perfectly livable. All you did was make them loud and bring waves of scum through them.”

Arwin’s jaw clenched. He was more than aware it wasn’t completely fair to demand the drunkard’s identity. The man didn’t owe them anything. If he didn’t want to speak about himself, then there was nothing Arwin could justifiably use as leverage.

That doesn’t make me want to know any less. This isn’t just a drunkard. I don’t even know his name. This must be how people feel when they realize that Lillia and I are more than we seem to be.

“Damn it,” Arwin muttered. “Won’t you at least give me a name? I can’t force you to say anything, but I’ve been thinking of you as ‘the drunkard’ for too long. This is our street. Like it or not, you don’t live alone. I’d like to be good neighbors, but I can’t do that if you insist on keeping a wall up.”

The drunkard let out a sharp burst of laughter. “What makes you think that I give a rat’s ass about being good neighbors, smith? I don’t dislike you or your group. You’re loud and bring far too much attention, but I can tolerate that. There have been worse that tried to move in before you. That doesn’t give you the right to know anything about me. Don’t spoil a good thing.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

It was a few seconds before Arwin responded. He ran a hand through his hair, contemplating the drunkard’s words. Then he inclined his head. If that was going to be how things were, then he really couldn’t argue. It was the drunkard’s choice.

Not enemies, but not friends. I suppose that’s what we’ve got to work with. I can’t make somebody like us, and I can’t make them reveal their past. That said…

“You’re right,” Arwin admitted. “I don’t have the right to know your history or who you are. But I do have the right to protect myself and my people, and that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t and won’t force you to tell me your life story. I’m not your king. But if you won’t say anything about yourself, how do I know you aren’t selling information to the other guilds?”

It was the drunkard’s turn to be silent. A second crawled by. Two. Finally, the white-haired man let out a disgruntled huff.

“Because I would not harm someone unable to fight back. That is the only answer you will draw from me.”

His words rang true. There was no way to verify them, but Arwin believed the man, nonetheless. It spoke numbers in his favor that he’d just risked his life to save a woman he didn’t know from an assassin.

“Then I’ve got nothing more to say,” Arwin said with a small nod. “You’re welcome in our tavern whenever you want. We have more rooms as well if you ever want to stay somewhere off the streets.”

“I far prefer the company of the alleys to that of the living. I am content.” The drunkard paused for a moment before speaking again. “But the offer is noted.”

Their conversation was just about at its natural stopping point, but it didn’t get a chance to farther even if they’d wanted it too. A thud rang out against the door.

“Let me in!” Madiv’s curt voice came from the other side.

Reya jogged over to the door and pulled it open. The vampire stood on the other side, his frilly suit slightly ruffled and a splatter of red once again sprayed across his front. Arwin suppressed a sigh. It looked like Madiv had lost another fight with —

Wait.

The subtle smell of metal and iron in the air. It clung to Madiv like a specter.

That’s not ketchup on him. That’s blood.

“Madiv?” Lillia asked, instantly catching on. “What’s going on? Don’t tell me you got into another problem with the Ardent guild.”

“I do not believe it was the Ardent guild,” Madiv replied. “But there is a trained group of killers encroaching on our territory. Eight men in grey uniforms and with masked faces.”

“Gray? Eight men?” Rodrick’s eyes sharpened and he spun toward Melissa. “The assassin that tried to kill you. He wore gray? You never said he wore gray.”

“I - I didn’t realize it was relevant,” Melissa stammered. She took a step back and bumped into the counter at the anger in Rodrick’s voice. “The assassins couldn’t have found me already. It’s not possible. And eight of them? I’m not worth nearly that many men!”

“What’s going on?” Olive asked. Her hand fell to the hilt of her sword. “Rodrick, it sounds like you know something. Maybe you’d like to share?”

“Gray clothed assassins that travel in groups of ten,” Rodrick said, his voice grim. “Yes, I know of them. They’re members of the Falling Blade. A guild of assassins for hire. They only take major jobs and are quite expensive.”

“A group like that was hired to kill me?” Melissa asked, her face going as pale as a sheet. Her back pressed against the counter as she fought to swallow. “Why?”

“Hold on,” Olive said. “Madiv counted eight. One is dead. Where’s the last one?”

“One attempted to apprehend me for questioning. He did not believe they were in dangerous territory.” Madiv adjusted his cufflinks and looked over his shoulder. “I rectified his misconception. Eight remain.”

I’ve never seen Madiv fight, but if he was able to handle one, we can fight back. I’ll be damned if I let a group of assassins stroll onto my damn street and do what they want.

“How much shit are we in?” Olive asked. “Can we win?”

“They’ve got different groups in the guild. I can’t say for certain,” Rodrick said. “But I don’t think we’re going to have much choice. If Madiv already killed one, it won’t be long before they’re here.”

“I can leave,” Melissa said, and her voice only trembled slightly. “I’m sorry for bringing you all into this.”

“Don’t bother,” Arwin said curtly. He scanned the tavern as he felt adrenaline start to pump through his veins. There were no signs of anyone lurking in the shadows, and he suspected Lillia would have known if anyone was there anyway. “Two of their members are already dead. We’re in conflict already. No point for you to just kill yourself on top of everything.”

“How far are they?” Reya asked. She gripped the hilt of her dagger and shifted from foot to foot in either anticipation or worry. Knowing the weapon she had, it was probably a mixture of the two.

A shadow rose up behind Madiv. Arwin called out a warning and lunged forward, but the vampire was faster. He spun and hands clapped together, stopping a sword an inch before it could drive into his neck.

Madiv thrust the blade to the side and twirled out of the way as the shadows pulled back fully, revealing a gray-clothed man slightly shorter than Arwin. He carried several throwing knives at his waist and had a second sword strapped to his other side.

Behind him, three other shadows rose up from the ground. Every single one of them looked identical. Arwin couldn’t tell one from the other. There was no sign of the other assassins, but that was no surprise.

I’ve fought stealth-focused monsters before. They use a few to draw the attention, then send their real force in while you’re focused on the bait.

The assassin that had cut at Madiv took a step back, joining the ranks of the other gray-clothed men instead of trying to press the attack any further.

“Step aside. You are in our way,” one of the men said. The voice came from their general direction, but it was impossible to tell which of them had spoken. Arwin’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward and summoned his helm.

“This is our territory. Leave,” Arwin said. “That’s the only warning you’re going to get.”

“We do not need a slaughter. Put aside your misplaced sense of honor and step out of the way, or you will join the ranks of the dead today. Do not make the mistake of believing that you have a fighting chance against us because two of our members were killed while they were on their own.”

Arwin activated [Dragon’s Greed]. Invisible threads stretched out to three of the visible men, and another thread stretched to the rooftop to his left, locating what was likely an assassin lying in wait. Some of them had magical items, and several of them at that. They were well equipped.

“You’re welcome to do what you want when she’s outside of our tavern,” Arwin said flatly. “We don’t care. But if you come to my territory and try to start killing, then we’re going to have a problem. Practice your vile profession elsewhere. Leave, or I’ll make you.”

“If you remain in our path, then we are enemies,” the assassins’ voice warned. All the men lowered their stances, reaching for their weapons. “This is your only warning.”

Then that we are. I’ve learned my lesson about leaving enemies alive.

“Come, then,” Arwin said. Verdant Blaze formed in his grip. He drove the butt of the hammer down into the ground beside him. “Come and die.”