The mercenary's sharp gaze glistened with a thin veil of moltengold as he extended one arm, blocking the passage, and snarled: "Goin' somewhere, lordling?"

Victor didn't care for the tone of his voice. It seemed rather unpleasant that he'd stumbled so low as to be forced to meddle within the bottom of the food chain, but, aside from that, everything, from the myriad of scars to the cruel twist of the man's lips, seemed exactly as he'd expected from the sellswords who'd work for a man like Kaviz. 

"I'm just going to have a word with your boss," said Victor, attempting to sidestep the man's blockade.

"No. Don't think you are".

"Sir--".

Just as Victor prepared himself to give the man a proper verbal beatdown, the door he'd been guarding creaked open. Kaviz, more boulder than man, stepped out, with a wicked smile to his face. 

The man was bigger than his name, but that was as far as Victor was willing to credit him. He'd seemingly, somehow, gained control of most criminal turfs within Sunkharbor, and the tales spoke of him as a man with a silver tongue, crude jokes, and a pitless charm that danced around the bourgeoisie and aristocracy alike. But Victor knew, theoretically, if nothing else, that such unquestionable power over an entire city, couldn't be gained without the proper amount of cruelty and blood-curling violence.

"Well," Kaviz gave him a look from head to toe, dark eyebrows casting shadows over his emerald, deep-set eyes. "And who might you be?".

The mercenary was quicker than Victor: "Just a bookworm".

Kaviz grinned, and something in his eyes made Victor's stomach twist. "Then why is it that he has been kept waiting? We must never turn our backs on those who seek knowledge, Uli." 

The mercenary sighed like he was used to his boss' melodramatics. "He's asking about the Inscriptions, sir".

Kaviz lolled his head to the side, gaze unreadable. "Is that so?".

Victor cleaned his throat. "I'm not asking about the Inscriptions. I'm after the spellbooks on stonemasoning". 

"Those are quite easily available at the Starsory, are they not?".

"Yeah. But most of them are so old they're unreadable. There is one spell that is just a splotch of ink on the page. If I take a look at the Inscriptions used to write it...".

"An interesting approach".

"The Roots are forbidden," reminded Uli.

"Of course," Kaviz smiled, charmingly. "But even the most rigid of rules must have exceptions. What this young traveling scholar speaks of is a possibility of restoring one our kingdom's most ancient forms of magic. Surely...".

Uli sighed once more. 

Kaviz brought one hand to his chin, scratching at it. "Tell you what: let me think on this, mister...?".

"Victor".

"Right. How long do you plan on staying in Sunkharbor?".

"As long as it takes for me to get to the Inscriptions".

Another smile. Kaviz looked at Victor like he witnessed the most interesting puzzle being resolved before his eyes. "Very well. I'll take your request to the city's authorities, and speak on your behalf. I must let you know that, as much as my industries have contributed to this city, I hold no actual power on the Roundtable, so it might as well be for naught--".

Right. Of coooourse.

"-- But I give you my word that I will fight your fight for as long as I believe in it".

"I could go with you," said Victor. 

Kaviz shook his head. "The Roundtable has a set disdain for foreigners. You'd think it'd be contrary, with us being a port town, but old habits hardly die, as they say. They will listen better to me".

Victor felt the shiver down his spine but stood unmoving. He didn't trust Kaviz one bit. There had to be something that could convince a man like him to take him seriously. Of course, there was always the possibility of the last name, but that was truly a last resort...

"I walked by the Public Market when I arrived," he said, looking Kaviz in the eye. "I wanted to fix my mechanical pencil, but apparently, all cogs and dolts have been brought off".

Uli stepped forward, grunting, and Kaviz had to put a hand on his shoulder again. "Yes?".

"Whatever new piece of machinery you're working on, I'll help. I have a hand for metalworking".

"Is that so," there was a newfound softness to Kaviz's tone. He pressed Uli's shoulder a little more forcefully, like a child with a new toy, and said: "What a pleasant surprise you've been, Mr. Victor. Are you staying in this very tavern?".

"Yes".

"Splendid. Once I find myself in possession of news about your case, I'll dispel one of my messengers to come knocking at your room. For now, however," he finally let go of Uli and his other hand went to grab the door handle. "You must leave, for I am--".

Interrupted once again, the three of them turned to where the sound came from. The wooden steps creaked under the weight of the new arrival, making their way towards the second floor. 

The first to reach them was a man almost twice Victor's size, wearing a set of armor that had seen better days, considering all the scratches on the chest plate alone, but that still covered him perfectly, making the man a walking wall of dented metal. Victor couldn't even see his face.

Walking behind him was a woman. She seemed to be about Victor's age, perhaps just a bit older. Dark skin and beautiful locks of brown hair falling around her shoulders like curtains. Her hands were perfectly joined in front of her body and she walked with an elegance and perfection so well executed that Victor was immediately transported to years back, watching his father hold court for knights and ladies of the high society. 

"Selyne!" Greeted Kaviz, and Ulis immediately stepped aside to permit his boss to walk to her. She offered him a hand, and Kaviz brought it to his lips, softly kissing the back of untarnished and soft-looking skin. "I hope the trip was pleasant".

"Quite so," said the newcomer, in a melodic voice lined with irony. "Your guardian is rather jumpy, though. Saw shapes in every shadow".

Kaviz side-eyed the monstrosity of a man who had brought her upstairs. "You can't fault a man for worrying".

"Of course," she smiled and then seemed to notice Victor. "Well, hello. I don't believe I recognize you".

Selyne offered him a hand. Victor, who was traveling as the son of a poor merchant, trying to learn magic to help his family, instead of kissing her hand, as she was expecting him to do, took it in between his and shook her hand with vigor. "I'm a scholar apprentice, milady".

The corners of her lips turned downward, ever so slightly, and he could feel her trying to free herself from his grasp, which he easily allowed her to do. It was quite entertaining to watch her try not to rub her hand against the fabric of her dress.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Selyne, still.

"Victor was just leaving," Kaviz said, not unkindly. "Have a good day, boy".

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"You as well, sir".

The armored man followed them inside, and Uli moved to guard the door with this ugly self as soon as it was closed behind them. But not before Victor managed to catch the sight of Selyne looking behind her shoulder, right at him, like she could see exactly what he was hiding, with that cold sea-green gaze of hers.

----------------------------------------

It was remarkably easy to find Roman in a crowd. Victor simply had to follow the wailing of the gambling losers. 

He slid in between the overcrowded tavern tables, filled with drunk men and hyperactive children, and stopped right before one of the bigger ones, just as Roman leaned forward and used his arms to pull the small piles of money to himself, laughing. 

"Oh, gentlemen, I don't believe you're very good at this!".

One of the men, chubby and red-nosed, almost too drunk to speak, cried out: "Yar cheatin'!".

"Am I?" Said Roman, grin still in place. "How so?".

Victor cleaned his throat, just loud enough for Roman to hear. The man threw his head back, the top of his hair pressing against Victor's stomach, and his gaze immediately soured. "Oh, it's you".

"Get up, we're done for today".

Roman stared at him for only half a second. Many things could be said about the disgraced monk, but one could never speak on his appearance. Fair-skinned, with short brown hair and grey, hooded eyes, Victor had witnessed the man strike fear in people's hearts with nothing but a stare. His mouth, now set on a straight line, trembled with barely contained anger.

"I thought I told you. Get. Lost".

Roman almost went back to being a smarmy gambler to men too inebriated to think about their scarce money, but Victor rolled his eyes and pulled on the back of Roman's chair. 

"Stop this facade already. It's been a tiring day and I just outsmarted the most rotten man in his place. I deserve a rest".

Roman turned around, and Victor could see the curiosity in his eyes. As money-hungry and immoral as the man believed himself to be, there was still an almost childlike wonder to him, as he followed Victor around and found out more about the world they both lived in.

"Did you?" He tried to sound ironic, but Victor knew better.

"He'll bring my case to the Roundtable in exchange for my help with his new machinery".

Roman furrowed his brow. "That doesn't sound like outsmarting him. You're still doing the legwork".

"It's practice," Victor shrugged. "The way I see it, I get two victories out of this".

 Roman turned back to his table. "Wonderful".

"Now will you stop this mockery? You and I both know you won't go back to that temple anytime soon. What do you plan to do without me?".

"I seem to be scrapping by just fine".

Victor felt his chest heavy. "I pay you better than most bodyguards could even dream of".

"Most bodyguards aren't literal monks".

Victor scoffed. "You aren't, either".

Roman gripped the coin in his hand so forcefully it bent. He turned to Victor with fury in his eyes, and--

The impact exploded against the back of Victor's head. Saved only by his instincts, he felt the lines of the rune burning his neck, etching into his skin as it absorbed the blunt force. So much, that it overflew, and the lines lost form, immaterial ink spilling down his nape. 

He was sent tumbling forward, onto the table. The drunk men spluttered about, in such a hurry to get away that they ended up stepping over one another. Sprawled onto the broken table, Victor could barely open his eyes. The light from the torches around the room filled his mind as his eyes tried to make sense of his surroundings. Etheral energy still sizzled just beneath his skin, worsening the sickness. 

"Move," grunted Uli. "Or I'll kill you too".

Around them, the entire tavern tried to find a way out. Some climbed over the counter, fighting for space with the tavernkeeper. Some jumped out of the windows. It was pure and unaltered chaos inside, screams and shrieks of terror piercing Victor's mind like nails. 

He could barely make out the shape of Roman, bandage-wrapped hands holding Uli's mace, just about a meter from Victor's un-armored and very squishy skull. 

"We had a deal!" Victor shouted, or, more likely, cried out. He could barely feel his head. "Kaviz--".

"Was offered a better deal, kid," laughed Uli.

"Wha--".

Even through the unimaginable pain and dizziness from the impact, Victor's mind still flashed back to the memory of her gaze setting on him like a cold tide. Selyne. 

How could she have known? Who was that woman?

Uli tried to free his mace from Roman's grasp, but the man was simply too strong. He then moved to kick his legs, trying to throw Roman off balance, but to do that, Uli needed to raise the mace, ever so slightly. Roman jumped over the kick and then over the mace. He used the millisecond during which Uli was thrown off balance to reroute the mace, and the massive iron head clanged against the wooden top of the table, cracking it open, just beside Victor's head. 

Roman perched himself on the handle, like a crow, grinning still.

"Roman," gasped Victor, feeling the blood flowing between his teeth. "Kill him".

Roman stared at Uli, and Victor could practically feel Uli's muscles recognizing the danger. And, then--

"Do I get my raise?".

"What?".

"My raise," said Roman, chirpy. "The one I've said I won't continue without".

"There's no raise! You're getting paid for what we agreed!".

Uli tried to punch Roman, who easily evaded, still perched on the handle. 

"I took on a warmonger last month, to keep your idiot head on your shoulders," said Roman. "I'd argue that's a bit above my pay grade".

"It's bodyguarding!".

Uli let go of the mace and lunged forward. Roman jumped out of the way, turning in the air, and fell back on the same spot, foot coming down on the top of Uli's ugly head, and shamshing his chin against the handle. Roman jumped back, landing on the floor, and looked at Victor:

"My raise".

"No".

Roman took a look around. Terrified civilians, broken tables, and crying children. Then back at Victor, sprawled on his back, burning ether and bleeding out his mouth, with a wound still open on the back of his head. 

He grasped the hairs atop Uli's head and pulled the man to his feet, the underside of his face all purple and swollen, his lips cut by his broken teeth.  

"Farewell, then," and, to Uli, he said: "He's at the end of his reserve. Shouldn't be too hard, even for... you".

Roman stretched, like a cat. He turned his back and made way for the closest door.

Uli spit out a river of blood and his hand clasped around the handle once more, successfully freeing it from the wood. 

And, unlike Roman, Victor was a very easy, unmoving target.