Chapter 6 — Second Thoughts

Toren let out a groan. Not even a candle had passed before reality took great joy in smacking him upside the head with his stupidity.

Reset to level 1 and he chose the Profession that faced danger head on. What had possessed him to choose as he did? Dreams of the future? The hells was he thinking? He should have ignored the poor synergy with his dubious new trait and taken [Assassin of the Silent Winds]! Wasn’t his and Yana’s dream to become famous [Monster Hunters], earn some money, and then settle down somewhere safe and start a family? What part of that was charging into danger?!

He was an idiot.

And now, not only were [Money Lender] Gazam’s goons hanging around the city gates to catch him if he went out to hunt, but [Debt Collector] Surlin and two of Gazam’s goons were waiting and watching for deadbeats like him to catch anyone who owed money from escaping to the colonies. [Assassin of the Silent Winds] would have surely given him a stealth Ability that would make sneaking past the annoying [Debt Collector] like a walk along a gentle mossy glade.

Instead, he decided to be a ravening [Berserker]. What was he going to do? Murder the guy and his enforcers then enlist as a criminal seeking to earn forgiveness for that AND his debt? His debt was high enough already!

Toren knew that Gazam was going to pull something once they noticed Yana, Avril, and Owen’s deaths on the magical debt contract. That was why he arranged for the [Merchant] that owned the place they were renting to buy their furniture and moved into an inn while discreetly selling off everything that he wasn’t keeping.

Surlin and the goons were standing near [Merchant] Lervic’s fruit-selling business trying to look like merchant guards. Prices had gone up after the locust attack, but Toren could only think that poor Lervic either owed Gazam money or Gazam had already taken the business as collateral. That Surlin even bothered to pretend could only mean they didn’t seem to want to draw attention from the [Official]’s [Guards].

That gave some optimism for possibilities to get past them, but there was risk in that nobles and officials often sided with merchants over commoners without any clout—especially orphans. From the rumors he had heard, the [Official] registering recruits was the lord of Greenvale’s fifth son, who took on the task to earn merit toward a more prominent position in service to the crown. Toren hadn’t heard anything bad about the man but didn’t know enough about whether he favored merchants or not.

From the fruit stand, Surlin had a clear view of the platform in front of which the [Official] was set up with a table, the platform usually used for slave auctions or sometimes music or acrobatic troupes performances on days when no slave auctions were scheduled. [Guards] liveried in Greenvale’s colors stood threateningly nearby and around the platform which already had quite a few people waiting for transport. The [Crier] was still loudly extolling the benefits of enlisting, and a [Knight] in shiny armor watched over the remaining down-on-their-luck men and families that were waiting near the table to have their paperwork processed.

More than one of the waiting men were hiding their features in hooded travel cloaks just like Toren was wearing. If he could make his way to the queue, there was a fair chance that Surlin wouldn’t risk bothering him.

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Whether or not Gazam’s thugs were looking for him specifically, there was one thing the years training to be a [Hunter] had taught him: patience, and Toren watched from where he was mostly out of sight behind the cloth of [Seller] Linde’s dyed linen stall for a while longer in hopes they would give up or get distracted.

Without any luck.

Unfortunately, he was running out of time and couldn’t delay too much longer. The [Official] was only there in the morning, and it would be another tenday, at the least, until the next transport—a tenday during which he’d owe a payment he couldn’t hope to pay.

“Hey, Toren. Whatcha looking at?”

Toren reached for a knife as he spun to face the whispered voice.

“Jumpy much?” Vim snickered at him from inside a ratty hooded cloak. “Thought you [Hunters] were always aware of your surroundings or some such.”

Toren frowned at the younger orphan and returned his knife to its sheath. Vim had yet to receive a Profession but the boy was clearly headed in a troublesome direction with his Skills. Though, that might make the boy exactly the person he needed.

“Vim, wanna earn some silver?”

Huddling alongside, the boy peeked around the stall’s cloth and grimaced. “[Debt Collector] Surlin’s your target? You hard up enough for silver that you’d risk making an enemy of Gazam?”

“Nah, just need a distraction.” He nodded in the direction of the [Official] and his guards. “I need to get to the lord’s son unnoticed.”

The boy considered the scene of the busy market square. “3 larges. And I get to keep anything I swipe.”

Toren winced, but nodded. Three silver rods would hurt, but the boy would be risking a beating from the thugs or worse. It was only fair. “Alright.”

“You’re too easy a mark, big bro Toren.” The rods soon disappeared under Vim’s cloak, and the mousy-haired boy flashed him a smirk before slipping into the flow of people, casually moving from person to person until he slipped into an alley that wrapped around behind the fruit stand.

Resisting the urge to check his silver pouch, Toren pulled his hood low and readied himself, eyes on the fruit stand and the [Debt Collector] loitering nearby. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. Not now.

If he wasn’t watching for it, he wouldn’t have noticed Vim’s cloaked figure duck down on the far side of the stand. Whenever Lervin was looking the other way, a blur of dirt-caked fingers snatched another fruit. Vim was using [Quick Hands] and [Misdirection] if Toren had to guess. Not bad skills for a boy that didn’t even have his Profession yet.

Vim kept loading up, until…

“Urchin! You picked the wrong guards to mess with!”

Saying a quick prayer to the Thieving Fox that Vim would escape unharmed, Toren made his move, drawing upon all his skill in [Stealth] to bring as little attention to himself as possible as he calmly plotted his path and slipped through the artisans, housewives, and servants out buying goods for the day. This wasn't his first time using the Skill in a city environment.

Like most everyone else, he pretended to look and see what the shouting was about and saw Vim already running, but a weighted cord blurred out from the thug and coiled around the boy’s ankles, sending him sprawling as the thug yanked to drag him back. Vim managed to hold onto the fruit in his hand and started biting into it, swallowing as quickly as possible with each bite.

“You bastard! You think that’ll save you?” The thug grabbed Vim by the arm and roughly hauled him up to dangle in the air.

Toren winced as Vim took a meaty fist to the gut, trying to make the scrawny boy give back the ill-gotten meal.

“Keep alert. Street rats always work in pairs,” Surlin’s cold voice instructed while moving out into the crowd and scanning the passersby and people hurrying away to not get involved.

“You heard the boss. Give up your shadow or I’ll hit you again!” the thug threatened, drawing back his fist.

The violence of the spectacle had stalled enough of the people milling about to make it hard for Toren to push through with his big travel pack and not stand out.

“I, I’ll talk,” Vim coughed out and sucked back in a breath, making frantic appeasing motions.

Vim wouldn’t… Toren groaned, getting a bad feeling, and resumed moving, no longer caring if he stood out.

The boy flailed with his free arm directly in Toren’s direction. “Him in the cloak and pack! He’s… *wheeze* the one who made me do it!”

Gods dammit, Vim!