It was a small room with blank walls and no windows. Other than the glow crystals, the only features of the room were the solid door, the cracked wooden table, and the uncomfortable high-backed chair that Nate now found himself in. One of the legs of that chair was just a bit shorter than the others, making it shift and rock beneath him so that it was impossible to get comfortable. For all of Farandway’s weirdness, it was nice to see that some things were the same as home. Interrogation rooms, it appeared, were universal.

The guards hadn’t been particularly gentle when they hauled Nate, Christophe, and the two orcs into an unmarked building just outside the central square. They had all be quickly separated, and Nate had been sitting alone in this room for an indeterminable amount of time. Waiting. They liked to make you wait. It let the anxiety build as nerves did their work. The first time Nate had found himself in a room like this he had been 16, and the waiting had done its work. But that was a lifetime ago.

They had searched him before depositing him in the room. They had taken his dagger and purse, then forced him to remove his leather vest and patted him down. They had been thorough. One of the guards had raised an eyebrow when they found the coins secreted in his sleeve, but Nate had just shrugged as they took those, too. It was only three coins. There were two more, plus a few coppers, in the purse. Beyond that, the only thing they could accuse him of possessing were a handful of small rocks that resided in the purse with his coins.

From the guard’s perspective, Nate’s role would be the hardest to determine. They had surely seen most of the conflict, and there were plenty of witnesses who could describe how it started. Grundar’s attack had been obvious and obviously unprovoked. But the guards would want to know why it happened. That probably meant they would question Nate last.

He knew what Grundar’s story would be. Nate had accosted him at the Cathedral, stolen his money, and disappeared. There would probably be some embellishments about that encounter. Someone like Grundar would have a hard time admitting he had been taken so easily. The other orc would back his story. She might even claim to have been a witness, though that would be a lie. If the interrogators were any good, they would figure that out.

Christophe was a wildcard. They hadn’t known each other for long. But Nate’s read was that the young mage was the honest and earnest type, and he had acted quickly to defend Nate when the attack came. Nate’s best guess was that Christophe would simply report what he had seen, and, from his perspective, Nate had been the victim. Fortunately, Nate’s new roommate didn’t know anything even potentially incriminating.

By the time the door opened, Nate had decided how he would play it.

Two guards entered the room, each carrying a chair which they quickly set down and sat on opposite him. One of the guards was the hard-eyed woman who had cast the energy net that trapped Grundar.

They eyed him for a while in silence, waiting for Nate to speak first. He didn’t. He calmly studied them back.

Finally, the woman spoke.

“I am Guard Lieutenant Silvan. And you are Nathan Sutton. Level 1 Rogue. Human. No known Faction, probably from one of the Unaffiliated Worlds. Surprisingly high dexterity for a level 1 Traveler. And an odd skill set. Improved running? Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take that before. Can’t argue with the results, though. I’d love to get a look at your character sheet and see a description of its effects.”

Her tone was warm, even friendly. But the words were meant to establish a power dynamic. She knew a lot about him. How did she know his skill? Just a guess, or possibly some form of improved identify? And what did she mean about seeing his character sheet? It didn’t matter for now. She was trying to make him uneasy, make him wonder what else she knew.

“What can I say? I like running,” Nate said with a wide, guileless smile. Then he let his smile shift a bit, giving Lieutenant Silvan a grateful look. “I’m so glad you and the other guards were there to step in when you did. I thought that monster was going to kill me.”

Silvan gave a quick glance to the other guard, a clean-cut, middle-aged human with a steely gray beard. The man cleared his throat.

“Yes, very strange behavior. Especially for a scion of one of the Great Factions. You can’t think of anything you did that might have provoked him?” He said with a hint of a growl, an edge of accusation. Nate suppressed an eye roll. So, this was Mr. Bad Cop. Outwardly, he switched to his best confused look.

“I suppose it’s possible,” Nate admittedly reluctantly. Silvan’s eyes sharpened for a moment, but relaxed in disappointment as Nate went on. “I’ve never met an orc before today. I don’t know what they might consider offensive. But I didn’t even notice him before he yelled at me. The next thing I know, he kicked me in the chest. Even cracked one of my ribs.” Nate rubbed meaningfully at his chest which, to be fair, did still hurt, though not as much as he thought it should. He had checked his status screen shortly before the two guards appeared, and he had already recovered 2 or his 6 missing HP.

“Is it possible you encountered him somewhere earlier in the day? Maybe he was carrying a grudge over something,” Silvan said, leaning in conspiratorially. I’m on your side, her body language screamed. I can help you.

“I spent most of the day out at the Traveler’s Retreat. That’s where I met my roommate, Christophe. Is he okay?” Nate asked.

“He’s fine,” the male guard, who had still not introduced himself, grunted. “Grundar says you two did meet before. Up at the Cathedral.”

“The Cathedral? Maybe. I mean, we were all up there. Maybe he has me confused with someone else.”

The two guards glanced at each other again, and Nate could feel their uncertainty. Whatever Grundar had said, he hadn’t completely convinced them that Nate had actually done anything.

“What happened at the Cathedral that made that orc want to attack me?” Nate asked, pushing on those uncertainties. “Did someone insult him?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“His purse went missing. He believes it was stolen,” Silvan said, still exchanging an intense look with her companion.

“Ahhh,” Nate murmured, nodding his head appreciatively. “And he saw a Rogue he thought he recognized and jumped to conclusions. I understand.”

Barely, almost unconsciously, Silvan nodded. That clearly made sense to her. The man seemed less convinced. He turned back to Nate.

“Nathan Sutton. A strange name. Is Sutton some kind of title?” he asked.

Nate inwardly cursed himself. The orc was called Grundar Shieldbreaker, with the second name obviously some kind of title. Christophe had a single name. He had chosen his name without thinking that the conventions might be different here. It made him stand out, and it was clearly something the orc had remembered.

“After a fashion. There was a famous man on my home world that was called Sutton. I chose it during my character creation as a way of showing him honor.”

It was sort of true. Almost. Willie Sutton might not be widely famous, but he was at least infamous. Nate had chosen it more as a joke than as an honorific, but the details weren’t important. Of course, Nate left out that the man had been a thief.

Lieutenant Silvan seemed to reach a decision.

“Nathan Sutton…” she began.

“You can just call me Nate,” Nate interrupted. Silvan inclined her head slightly.

“Nate, please wait here for just a bit longer. We will be back shortly,” she said as she rose from her chair. The other guard followed.

“Of course. Anything I can do to help the authorities,” Nate said, without a trace of sarcasm.

Grundar was seething. His skin still prickled from where the energy net had constricted, but the real wounds were not visible. He had been humiliated. Again. The chair beneath him creaked ominously under his shifting bulk, and it was all he could to not splinter it against one of the walls.

He had seen Kilth for a moment before they were separated, a bright welt forming between her eyes from where the miserable little thief had pelted her with something. She had looked away from him in shame, though whether it was at Grundar’s failure or her own, he couldn’t tell. Either way, it twisted in his guts, feeding the flame of his rage.

The door opened, and the two human guards returned. He had told them how he had been wronged and expected them to immediately promise they would deliver the Rogue’s head to him on a spike. But they had left, and they had been gone for a long while. Now they were back, and they did not look happy.

“We have spoken to the others involved in today’s altercation, Grundar Shieldbreaker,” the one who had shot him with that accursed net said.

“Good. When is the thief going to be executed? I want to see it.” Grundar growled. In truth, he wanted to swing the axe himself. But watching the thief die would be good enough.

“I think you should be more worried about yourself,” the other guard said. This one was slightly smaller than the net shooter. A female, then? “You attacked another Traveler in the center of the city, in front of hundreds of witnesses. That has consequences.”

Grundar stared blankly for a long moment, trying to process. Then he snarled.

“Consequences? For me? What are the consequences for thieves in this idiotic city?” He thundered, his barely contained rage bubbling over.

“About that,” the net shooter said. “Just to be clear, you said this Rogue stole your purse. You saw this happen?”

“Saw it? Of course I didn’t see it! If I had seen it, I would have torn her arms off on the spot!” Grundar yelled savagely.

“Right. And how do you know that ‘she’ is the right Rogue?” The net shooter paused oddly on the word ‘she,’ but Grundar took no note.

“I would recognize that thief anywhere!” Grundar barked, his eyes burning. The guards exchanged a look. Grundar hastened to add, “And the thief had two names! Just like the one I attacked!”

“Right, you did mention that,” the smaller guard said, nodding. “Remind me, what was this thief’s name?”

Grundar opened his mouth, then stopped. He thought hard. He had read the Rogue’s name, but he hadn’t really processed it after noticing that there were two of them. It was right on the edge of his memory, but refused to rise to the surface.

The silence stretched for an uncomfortable moment while Grundar’s mouth worked, no sound coming out. Finally, the net shooter sighed.

“Some of my guards will accompany you and your companion back to your Faction’s compound. We will also be delivering a notice of fines to your chieftain for the damage done tonight. The City Lord may have additional penalties to add later, though I think banishment from the city is unlikely for a first infraction. Still, you should step more carefully from here on out.”

Grundar stared in disbelief at the guard. What were they saying? Grundar was the one who had been wronged. Were they saying that he was going to be punished?

“You can’t!” He finally managed to bellow. “Do you know who I am? Do you know…”

“I know that you are a new Traveler, a Level 1 Warrior who has disturbed the peace in my city,” the net shooter snapper. “I could break you like a twig with my bare hands right now and no one, not the City Lord, not your Faction leadership, no one, would do a damn thing about it. My advice is to go back to your Faction tonight and think about that.”

Grundar’s mouth clicked shut in shock at being spoken to like that. Like he was weak. Like he was nothing. The two guards turned and left.

Nate stepped out of the guard station into the quiet street to find Christophe already waiting for him. The young man stepped to him quickly, his eyes wide.

“Oh, thank goodness you are okay! I told the guards everything that happened. I can’t believe that orc just attacked you like that. Are you okay? Do you need healing?” The words came out in a tangled jumble.

“I’m fine,” Nate said, though he added the mention of healing to his mental notes of things to check on. “Thanks for your help back there. It probably saved my life.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Christophe said, though Nate noticed his chest puff out a bit in pride at the praise. “It’s what friends do, right? Not that I’m saying we are friends.” Christophe looked down sheepishly.

“Of course we are friends,” Nate said, giving the mage an easy smile. Christophe brightened back up immediately.

“Ah. Yes. Good. Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I’m surprised the guards kept you so long. I’ve been waiting for a while, but they just told me they were still questioning you. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Me, too. Has that orc that attacked me come out yet?”

“No,” Christophe said with a nervous shake of his head. “But I’m sure he is in a lot of trouble. The ban on violence with city limits is strictly enforced. His Faction is going to be furious with him.”

“That’s a real shame,” Nate said. He glanced up and down the street. He could hear the sound of the crowded celebration in the square not too far off, but the area around the guard station was deserted. Despite that, Nate felt an odd unease. As though he was being watched.

“We should head back to the party! We haven’t been gone that long. I don’t think the City Lord has made his welcome speech yet. If we hurry, we can still catch it!” Christophe squeaked, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way,” Nate said. The words were barely out of his mouth before Christophe was bounding off, with Nate following in his wake a moment later.

As they started the short trek to the square, Nate caught a flicker of movement in one of the shadows on the other side of the street. There was a figure there he hadn’t noticed before, almost completely hidden by shadows. The figure wore a long cloak with the hood up, making it impossible to identify. But the dark mouth of the hood was pointed directly at him. Watching.

“Come on!” Christophe called, and Nate glanced back to see that Christophe was pulling away from him. He looked back to the shadows, but in the span of moments, the hooded figure had vanished.

Nate watched the shadows for another moment. Then he hurried to catch up with his excited companion.