The door to the bar slammed open. People bustled out, stumbling over the shoddy dirt pavement. I watched, rebandaging my left eye with my hood pulled low. Upon exiting the shadows I dipped under the arms of two roughhousing men and into the building.

Inside, lanterns hung off the walls and dotted the wooden tables. A short ceiling sectioned with rafters held small candlelit chandeliers, almost too low to be safe. To the immediate left was a bar area attended by the man I had seen in the apron earlier. He'd been the one yelling at the upchuck champion. He dumped out mugs of unfinished drinks into a waste bucket, 'washed' them out in another bucket of water, and then set them on a hook to dry. To the right of me was a good-sized dining area, enough for the six or seven tables it held. I was relieved to see a woman or two sitting and drinking. Most attendees seemed to be in groups, and any loners sat at the shoddy bar stools.

I made my way over to a barstool, eyeing over the barkeep. He looked in his late 40s, with a thick, black mustache betrayed by a shiny bald head. His handiwork with filling drinks and cleaning was gentle, but the look on his face screamed 'I would kill a man before I'd put up with him.' I felt a sense of solidarity, as I could relate. He was shouting orders to a girl named Diane to carry drinks and meals to people. Between each sprint to the tables, she returned to the barside and gave him any orders that had been put in. She was a cute girl with brilliant red hair and a comely figure that I suspected caused her more harm than good. Her large green eyes gave off an intensity when they focused. It reminded me of my own when I was her age. She had calloused hands and toned arms below her rolled-up sleeves. Running back and forth left her cheeks spotted with a patchy blush.

Diane approached me.

"Greetings sir," She began in a pleasing but firm tone, "Welcome to the Swine's Haul Tavern. How can I serve you?" Placing an empty serving tray behind her, she rocked back and forth on her heels with childish energy as she waited on me.

I coughed in response. Was I that easy to mistake for a man? That had never been the case before. I felt myself missing my old chest once again. I can't believe I used to take my girls for granted...

"How much for a meal and a room for the night?" I asked, lowering my voice like that of a young man. The ruse held up. She shot back an answer without pause or suspicion.

"Sixty copper, or I can take one silver and give change."

I rummaged through my bag. She didn't seem sly enough to overcharge travelers, and I would know having often played the 'cute and innocent' card in my previous life. Takes a conniving bitch to know one, and she wasn't it.

"How much copper for a silver?" I asked.

She looked at me strangely, surprised I didn't know basic conversions, but replied courteously.

"One hundred copper to a silver." She chirped, tucking a loose strand of fiery locks behind her ear. I paled. There were only twenty coppers in here along with six silvers, and I was going to use a silver up. I pulled out the requested amount and passed it over to her. I now had five silvers and sixty copper, forty of which was returned in change.

"Seems I had more on me than I realized," I commented, shooting her a smile. The hood mostly hid my face, but she still should've been able to see my pleased expression.

"Thank you very much, I will get the key to your room in just a moment. The meal tonight is beef stew. Is there anything else I can do for you?" She questioned, putting on a cheerful face.

"Might I ask you a question or two?" I replied, rubbing the back of my head shyly, "I am new around this part of the city and you seem real sweet...I'd give you a little coin for your trouble, miss."

She told me once she finished her serving rounds she would be around to help me, eager when I promised a few coppers for her time. My meal came out shortly after my room key was given to me. It was a beef stew chock full of veggies with a slice of bread for dipping. I blew on the first spoonful. The warmth was comforting.

When she returned after about twenty minutes, my bowl was long empty. I asked her about the city like I was someone just passing through. Maybe a merchant or a mercenary. When I finally headed upstairs for the evening, I learned several more useful things.

One: I was currently in the capital city Sonhest of the Myther Dominion. This meant for sure I was no longer on earth. I truly reincarnated into a different world.

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Two: Myther Dominion was a late Middle Ages society ruled by a monarchy. The current reagent resided in the large castle at the city's center.

Three: The area of Sonhest I had woken up in was Trevel, the market and commerce ring of the city. The entirety of Sonhest was divided into five rings. From the center of the city moving out was the Palace, the Highlands, where the nobility and palace workers lived, Trevel, Hulpine, the largest sector where common people lived, and finally the Outreaches.

Four: I had asked about jobs in the city, and learned that there were indeed mercenaries who took work for pay. They were divided into multiple guilds that facilitated jobs for them. Mercenary work was for people living paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford a home or down on their luck. A few better-off folk did it for fun, but for the most part, it was full of gamblers, debtors, nomads, and the desperate. The average job? Only paid 40 copper.

Not even enough to buy a room and meal for the night at a cheap tavern.

As the tavern company died down, seats growing vacant and the lantern lights flickering on the last of their fuel, Diane and I spoke at length. Hoping to get more information without looking overly uninformed, I asked about her life and interests.

"Truth is?" She said, leaning close to me out of earshot of the barkeep, "I only work here 'cause it's my Uncle's business. Customers constantly harass me, grabbing at me and making comments..." Trailing off, she shuddered at the memories, "Though that sounds like complaining, I know."

She laughed as if to brush off the pain, but I shook my head.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to be free," I assured her, knowing better than most how she felt. "But if it wasn't here, where would you want to go?"

Diane grew quiet, and only the sound of the barkeep hauling crates around back could be heard. Moonlight streamed in through the dusty windows.

"My parents were knights." She began, pursing her lips and avoiding my gaze, "If I had my choice..."

She never finished that sentence, seeming like there wasn't any more she was willing to tell a stranger. Not that I could blame her. I hadn't gotten anything else out of our conversation, so as her Uncle re-entered the tavern I bid her goodnight and slid her a few copper pieces.

The path to my room upstairs was worn and creaky, and the rusted door key took a few tries to work. I sat down on the stained mattress, fiddling with the pouch. I may have very well stolen that man's multiple weeks' worth of work. Diane had mentioned other professions; people worked as everything from bartenders, servers, store owners, construction workers, and so on. I noted that all the jobs she mentioned didn't require any significant schooling. It seemed likely that education was not at all public here.

'Can I read this world's language? It could prove advantageous.'

Or suspicious.

I fell back onto the pillow and closed my eyes. Finding peace didn't come easy, regardless of how many deep breaths I took. A distressed groan escaped into the sheets as I buried my head in them. No matter what tomorrow brought I needed to be rested for it.

...

Who was making all that noise? My brow furrowed, and I sat up. It was quiet, but somehow my ears could pick it up. From beyond the walls of the tavern and down around the back of the building was the sound of a girl crying. I listened closer. She was pleading for something and sounded extremely distressed. A low voice occasionally mingled into hers, sharp as it cut her off. Had my hearing always been this good? Either way, there was no way I could rest with the sounds of those two bickering behind the bar.

Suddenly, the conversation stopped and there were the sounds of dirt scraping and fabric tearing. Deep in my stomach, a worried pit formed.

It wasn't uncommon back in my world for poor girls to be taken advantage of. I had barely managed to escape it several times myself. Part of my reasoning for doing what I did, the thievery, lying, and plotting, was because I wanted to be safe. To be comfortable. But as long as someone was above me, I could never be safe. I would always be in danger of something like assault if I didn't stand above it all. To others, it seemed counterproductive, but to me, raw power needed no explaining.

That was the second lesson I had learned following my years on the streets.

Life is a knife fight, so own a gun.

If you wanted to live in peace, you had to run forever or stand on top of the bloody, competitive heap.

I always chose the latter. This world would prove no different.

There was no competing without a good night's sleep, however, and damn it I needed rest. This body was pathetic, and could barely handle being up and moving for more than a few hours at a time. I was mortified at how often I had to stop and rest during my scouting today.

Half out of curiosity and half out of a need to sleep, I slinked out of my room and around the back of the tavern. Unraveling my bandage let me get a better look at things, and I used the newfound sight to slide faster along the wooden walls. I hopped up to the roof of Swine's Haul by swinging off low beams and using the shingles as a grip. My muscles screamed at me. Even if I knew how to do all the movements by memory, this body wasn't built for it.

I peered over the rooftop at the source of the noise, shadowed by a nearly moonless night.

'Oh?'

Standing below me was Diane. She wore a white nightdress that had been ripped near the chest, newly speckled with blood. Each breath heaved against her chest, her hair knotted from the muddy scuffle. Her left hand held a broken glass bottle, and in her right a large, dripping red shard of glass. Lying below her in a pool of blood was the drunk man I stole money from earlier that day. His pants were unbuttoned and halfway down his calves. The sight made me frown. Ew. He was unmoving, with a single deep stab wound in his chest. She had hit him right in the heart and severed an artery or two. It was a clean, quick kill.

It was no mystery what had happened here. The real question instead was, should I take advantage of it?