The guard showed us to the inn as promised. Kazamir was running ahead while the exhausted Alexei and the guard tried to catch up but were slowed down by hauling Harly. Kazamir was running ahead until Alexei told him to take a turn carrying Harly if he was that full of energy. Kazamir stopped running ahead after that. After a good 10 minutes of walking through a medieval city in which time Harly was only let down once or twice. They made it to the inn. Kazamir opened the door and quickly got inside and out of the way of the two men dragging Harly in. The air inside the inn was warm and smelled of cooking food, stale ale, and sweat.

The innkeeper looked up from the mug he was cleaning with a rag that had seen better days from behind a worn, smooth wooden countertop. The innkeeper was a tall man standing around 1.7 meters (5' 10"), but he was well-muscled and had a short beard and a balding head.

"I'm guessing put another two rooms and board on the guard's tab?"

The innkeeper said more as a statement than a question.

"Yes"

The reply was short and strained from the guard as he had already begun hauling Harly up the stairs.

"Alright, 5th room down both sides."

Alexei and the guard stumbled up the staircase and down the hallway. When they got to the door, they had another stumble. Alexei went for the door on the right; this would have been fine if the guard didn't try to go for the left door. The following incident looked like a spring as both men reached out for the door handle, then feeling their arms stretching, they both went back to the center, crushing poor Harly in between the two men.

Both men apologized, and avoiding the same mistake, Alexei conceded and let the younger guard open the left side door. As Alexei and the guard finished placing Harly onto the bed, Kazamir was downstairs and had been talking to the innkeeper.

"Huh, So you came from that village up the way then."

Kazamir nodded sadly.

"But, I joined up with these guys, and I got to kill a bunch of 'em goblins."

"Good on ya, kid. I bet your mom and pap would be proud of you. Well, let's get some food in ya. You're going to need it if you're going for the merc life."

"Thank you."

The innkeeper went back through a door behind the counter, away from Kazamir's view. Kazamir took a seat at the bar and relaxed into it. This was the first time since the burning of his village he could take a breath without having to be constantly in fear of an attack. He let out a long shuddering sigh. Just letting all of the stresses of the past few days leave him for a few seconds.

Kazamir took the weapon given to him to take revenge for his fallen family, off its sling. Kazamir removed the magazine and checked the chamber before turning the safety back on and leaning the weapon on the counter. Even though Kazamir only had the gun for days during that time, both Alexei and Harly had made sure that he knew about weapons safety.

Kazamir reflected on how Alexei taught him to use that 'rifle,' much like his dad taught him to use the small hand ax to gather firewood. Kazamir's mind dragged him back to that day. He had woken up in the small little house that his family-owned. After helping his mother clean the pots and pans in the stream near town, he went to the bakery to see his best friend. A boy around the same age as him with dark brown hair and green eyes named Gunther.

Kazamir smiled as he remembered the gleeful mischief he and Gunther had gotten up to that day. He remembered the exhilaration of sword-fighting his friend with sticks they had found in the village streets. But, he also remembered the terror that had run through him and his friend when a missed jab from Gunther had hit a clay pot on Dortin, the woodsmen's windowsill. The blow sent the clay pot flying off the windowsill and smashing against the ground.

Both boys took half a second to look at each other before they ran for it. Even though they both got a head start, Dortin caught up to them. When Dortin had caught both of the boys, he started lecturing them about watching their surroundings.

"What were you boys even doing that would've knocked over a piece of pottery on a windowsill?"

At this point, Kazamir spoke up in a dejected tone of voice.

"We were sword fighting with sticks while pretending to be great heroes."

Dortin had a wistful smile across his face. Then he leaned in and started speaking in a conciliatory tone.

"Well, back when I was your age, my friends would sneak around and try to hit pottery drying on windowsills with rocks. Of course, every time we did this, we would get punished. But, I got the chance to apprentice under the woodsmen when I managed to sneak up to him and scare him without him ever noticing me. If you don't give up, you might be able to be a great swordsman one day.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

When Kazamir first heard those words, they sounded inspiring, but now after everything had happened, they rang hollow to Kazamir's ears. After that speech, Dortin let them go back to their parents. Kazamir was grounded and forced to do chores the rest of the day. He didn't want to remember the next part, but the more he tried to fight it, the more insistent his brain seemed to be. Finally, the memory crashed down on him much as a tsunami does with a rickety old beach house.

He and his mother were inside their family barn. Screams and the clash of metal coming from the outside. Both of them ran out of the barn. Then her screaming for him to run.

"Hey, Kaz, you there?"

Kazamir looked over his right shoulder to see Alexei and the guard waiting by the door.

"We're going to the guild hall. Want to come along?"

Kazamir shook his head.

"Someone has to stay here and keep Harly company."

"Alright, just don't burn the place down while I'm gone."

Alexei said with a cheeky smile.

He waved goodbye, then opened the door and walked out, staying for just a moment to hold the door for the guard behind him. Then he was gone, out of sight from Kazamir.

Alexei's legs were burning. He carried Harly and his heavy stuff. On top of that, he had to go check out this fucking goddamn 'guild hall' when he finally got a chance to rest.

'Ah well, let's get this fucking over with, so I can catch a nap before the next thing goes to hell.'

Alexei thought sourly as he trudged down the cobblestone road toward the guild hall. The street was lined by medieval houses and shops.

A few minutes later, the smell of cooking food made Alexei lift his eyes off the road in front of him. The guard also noticed the smell because he commented on it.

"Smells like Parlock is cooking up something special. Probably cause one of the adventuring types brought something good back."

"Could you elaborate on adventuring type?" Alexei said to keep his mind off the mind-numbingly good smell wafting through the street.

"You know, one of those hero wannabes who end up getting themselves killed trying to clear out some dungeon."

"Back where I'm from, people who take unnecessary risks trying to be a hero are called idiots," Alexei said with the grumpiness of an old man.

"Most of us around here agree with you on that point. But, they are one of the main sources of income for the city, along with trade from the ongoing war and quarried stone. We are also a good source of fir." the young man said with pride.

"Must have some good dungeons around here if you get so many adventuring types."

The guard shrugged, "I guess I never really cared to know. Well, we're here, so if you really have that much of a care about it, you can ask yourself."

Alexei looked up to see a large building by this city's standards. The architecture of the building reminded Alexei of Hollywood's rendition of an old west saloon but with regular doors instead of the bat-winged ones seen in most westerns.

"Well, this is where I'll take my leave. You seem like a good fellow. Try not to die." the young guard said as he walked off back the way they had come.

"Thanks for the advice."

The Russian whispered under his breath before opening the door. Alexei could feel the warm air wash over him as he stepped through the threshold. Alexei smelled the mouth-watering meat cooking on racks over a fireplace in the middle of the room, which, combined with spilled alcohol, body odor, and wood smoke, gave the place a rough-and-tumble sort of environment even without the patrons.

Alexei looked around at the people gathered in the hall as he walked into a little waiting room before the main hall. There were several groups of people drinking, playing something that looked like poker, and a bunch of people in a big circle. A young pretty girl called out to him from behind a counter off to his right. Alexei gave the girl a once-over as he walked over to her counter from the entrance. She had a pretty face, looked over 18 years old, had flowing brown hair and welcoming black eyes, and was dressed in a tasteful but utilitarian uniform.

"You new here!?"

She shouted over the din. Alexei nodded, being too tired to give a complete response. She gave him a once over.

"What's your line of work then?"

"Killing,"

She nodded

"Well, then you're going to start off with a better chance than most here."

She said with a slight show of sad fatalism. She noticed the rifle hanging on Alexei's chest. Many people saw the gun, but they didn't know what they were looking at. Her though, she knew what she was looking at.

"I have someone to introduce you to."

This got Alexei's attention, and he perked up as the hostess opened a door in what Alexei realized was a front desk check-in. She walked over to him and led him to the big ring of people he had noticed earlier. When we got to the outer ring, she walked through the crowd mainly because people would notice and recognize her and then move out of the way. All Alexei had to do was just follow in her wake.

When they broke through to the center of the ring of people, Alexei saw what everyone wanted to get a look at. Spread out on the floor was a big white man dressed in a forest camouflage uniform, almost 2 meters tall and easily 150 kilograms (roughly 350 pounds) of muscle. Above him was a short but well-muscled Mexican man in a grim-covered blue jumpsuit feeding a tube into the more prominent man's mouth and constantly pouring alcohol into the other side.

The woman ignored the two men on the floor and made her way over to a third man sitting at a table at the edge of the ring of people. The lady tapped the man on his shoulder and then pointed at Alexei. The man turned to look at Alexei. His face was scruffy and flushed red from alcohol, messy brown hair topped his head, and dark brown eyes seemed to bore into Alexei's soul. Then Alexei glanced at the man's patch of white above red.

‘Poland, of course he was Polish. I can’t catch a fucking break.’ Alexei thought