Chapter 3

“What does it mean when a girl bites you?”

Marim, Diogo, and Ricardo stared silently at Liam for several seconds.

“You talking about Nat?” Marim asked.

“Maybe…”

“Let’s see it,” Ricardo leaned in closer.

“No,” Liam stepped back.

“…where did she bite you?” Diogo asked.

“Uh, on the shoulder.”

Liam’s hand went to his left pauldron over where Nat had bitten him. Her ‘gift’ a couple of weeks ago had been a Darkvision ring she had bought for herself, which she asserted would allow them to spend more time together. Almost all of that extra time was sleeping, though. Nat had a habit of clinging to him while they slept, which made him feel like he was being broiled inside of his bedroll. Had he been cooking for so long that he had become appetising enough to gnaw on? Maybe she had gone feral.

“My wife hasn’t bitten me before,” Marim said, “so I got nothing.”

“You probably let her run wild for too long,” Ricardo told him.

“Run wild?”

“You know, letting her do too much of her own thing. Letting her run her own shop and all that. I heard she even tries to tell Sir Jorge how to run the camp now.”

When did that start happening? Sir Jorge had never mentioned it.

“I know you’re sweet on her and all,” Ricardo continued, “but you need to discipline your woman. It’ll never end otherwise.”

Liam sighed and left the three patrol sergeants, walking through Rimun Gate. The Faith of the Six encouraged professional ambition regardless of gender, but not only were women expected to be docile and subservient to men in the Faith of the Four, they were also seen as deviants if they favoured their careers over family life. There were exceptions, of course, such as Adventurers and other larger-than-life individuals, but a ‘wild’ woman was generally seen as a problematic existence.

Nowhere was this outlook more prevalent than in the highly-religious Holy Kingdom of Roble. Liam couldn’t stomach it, so he wondered if it made him a failure as an Assassin. Mrs Linum would probably say so. An Assassin was a master of disguise and was supposed to be able to seamlessly blend into any setting.

“Liam, there you are.”

Sir Jimena was on the other side of the gate. An unfamiliar man of dark complexion and short stature stood at his side.

“I got a new guy for you,” the Knight said.

“Name’s Manuel,” the new guy stuck out his hand.

Liam took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you, Manuel.”

“He’s rough around the edges like the rest,” Sir Jimena told him, “but he’ll manage. Probably.”

Over the past two weeks, the Knights hammered out an informal system of identifying and testing thief-taker candidates. Like Liam, they all started as caravan escorts and had their capabilities and trustworthiness gauged by the caravan masters. He wasn’t sure how reliably it identified Rogues as they had many overlapping qualities with Rangers in that type of situation, but it wasn’t as if Roble had an abundance of trustworthy street thugs to choose from like the Draconic Kingdom did.

After that, the candidates were incorporated into the new training routines devised for House Restelo’s city patrols. Those who surpassed a certain threshold of proficiency were placed under Liam. As Sir Jimena said, however, even those guys were still ‘rough around the edges’.

“I’ll put him through his paces, sir,” Liam said. “Do the patrols know him on sight?”

“They’ve seen him in training, but that’s no guarantee. Hell, the other thief-takers might stick him in the dark.”

Manuel shifted on his feet as they spoke, his eyes going back and forth between Liam and the Knight. Liam motioned for him to follow with a jerk of his head.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, sir,” Manuel said as he fell into step beside him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Manuel enthused, “I’ve heard so much about you! You fought an army of Rogues for weeks on your own. You even went to prison and you stare down Remedios Custodio whenever she comes around. That’s so hardcore – you really have my respect.”

He wasn’t sure if someone from the Holy Kingdom should have said all that. At the same time, it was somewhat reassuring. For lack of a better way to describe it, Rogues had roguish qualities no matter how they might otherwise be.

“So,” Manuel licked his lips and drywashed his hands, “what do I do?”

“Let’s take a look at your equipment, first.”

They stopped on a street corner a block away from the gate. Manuel produced the same type of dagger that Roble’s citizens used for everyday tasks. That in itself wasn’t bad, but he didn’t seem to have anything else beyond his nondescript labourer’s outfit.

“What did you do before this?” Liam asked, “Before caravan escort duties, I mean.”

“I was a labourer, sir. But there wasn’t any work in the city. Sir Luis picked me out a while ago for the caravans.”

How did a labourer end up as a Rogue? Then again, he did seem pretty enthusiastic about his work. Will counted a lot towards self-development. However, that in turn raised questions about what he envisioned himself to be.

“The first thing you need to do is get some boots,” Liam told him. “Those straw sandals are going to get you killed. How in the world did you manage to work as an escort without wearing them out?”

“They didn’t pay us much,” Manuel replied, “but it was enough to afford new sandals every now and then.”

It was true that caravan escorts weren't paid much, but they were also provisioned by House Restelo while they worked. Everything else was extra and they worked nonstop, so he should have at least been able to afford some boots. On top of continuously buying new straw sandals, he must have been purchasing something else. Maybe he had a family in the city to feed and didn’t understand that rural folk were accustomed to operating on credit.

“You’re working on the ground until you get a decent pair,” Liam told him. “The camp market should have plenty.”

“Um, we don’t get equipped by House Restelo?”

“Of course not,” Liam replied. “Knights equip themselves through their personal incomes. It’s the same sort of deal with men-at-arms. If you want to know how the other armsmen manage things, just ask around.”

Manuel glanced over Liam’s gear.

“You mean you paid for all that awesome stuff on your own?”

“Sort of. I saved up a lot and invested it in a workshop. You can still afford normal equipment with an armsman’s pay, though.”

“Normal…you mean you’re wearing magic items?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s jaw dropped open. Liam wasn’t sure what was so astounding. Saving up to start a business was common sense for pretty much every vocation. All he had done was identify a ‘wife’ who could read and write, figured out what she could do, and invested in her workshop while encouraging her to follow the tenets of The Six. Of course, Nat turned out to be super good at what she did, but all that meant was that they had a giant pile of scrip that they weren’t sure what to spend on.

“New guy?”

Ricardo strolled up behind them with his squad.

“He’s on the street for now,” Liam replied.

“Guess we can’t have another thief-taker breaking their neck.”

Liam nodded. One of the first new thief-takers had slipped off of a rooftop and landed on their head. They rushed him to the nearest temple for healing and it was sort of embarrassing explaining what happened to Sir Jimena after that.

“You have a screen tonight?” Liam asked.

“Nope,” Ricardo answered. “Want us to take him on?”

“Don’t stab him by accident.”

“Hey, you’re the only one we nearly stabbed by accident. You’re just too damn sneaky for your own good.”

“What do I do?” Manuel asked.

“Walk about a half-block ahead of the patrol,” Liam told him. “Check the alleys and any other hiding spots you see along the route. If you find something suspicious, whistle up Ricardo’s patrol. Don’t try to do anything alone unless someone bolts.”

“Got it.”

He kept his instructions as plain as possible, as the new thief-takers didn’t seem to understand what a Sneak Attack was. Since they were more or less as excited as Manuel about their work, having them whacking random people carried a high risk of grievously injuring or even killing someone.

After making sure Manuel understood his instructions, Liam went to the rooftops to observe his progress. He frowned as the man snuck up on a cat in a doorway and pulled his dagger. The cat detected him and bolted, causing Manuel to jump a metre into the air with a startled shout. Ricardo’s patrol came running to assist.

Is this alright?

Laughter rose as the patrol mocked Manuel for his overreaction. Liam hopped down from his perch above, slipping into the alley ahead of the group.

A few minutes later, Manuel appeared and paused to look in Liam’s direction. Then, he pulled his dagger and closed the distance. When the man raised his weapon to strike, Liam punched him in the gut. A swift kick sent him rolling back out into the street and the patrol came running again.

“Are you an idiot?!” Liam scowled, “What if I was a kid?”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Technically, he was, but he had lied about his age.

“But I couldn’t see–”

“I told you that if you find something suspicious, whistle up the patrol. I didn’t say ‘stab anything suspicious’. At this rate, you’re going to cause trouble for everyone.”

“We done with him?” Ricardo asked.

Manuel’s eyes widened at the implications of the patrol sergeant's words. He pushed himself up from the street and crawled to Liam’s feet.

“No, wait!” He pleaded, “Don’t get rid of me! I promise I won’t do it again!”

“After trying to stab a cat and then me, your promises are about as good as a hole in a boat.”

“Just give me another chance! Please!”

Liam shared a look with Ricardo.

“Let’s see how he does for one round?" Ricardo said.

That’s what we were just doing…

“Fine,” Liam said. “But if he screws up one more time, he’s on the next caravan out.”

He returned to the rooftops with a shake of his head. Smiling Demon? He was more like the Demon Nanny. How did Roble’s Royal Army manage to train their thief-takers without incident? On second thought, maybe they didn’t.

A figure made its way over the rooftops, clambering over to join him.

“New guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. I thought I was in trouble for a moment when I saw you here. How many cats did he try to stab?”

“…that’s not funny.”

“It is, in a way.”

Liam sent an unamused look in the man’s direction. He was a thief-taker who had ‘graduated’ from Sir Jimena’s training the previous week: a lanky young man by the name of Ames.

“Has anything happened on your block?” Liam asked.

“Not a peep, aside from the new guy. I doubt anything will happen this deep in our turf.”

A sigh escaped Liam's lips as he was reminded how silly Manuel’s reactions were. They were standing in House Restelo’s original jurisdiction, which meant they were several blocks from any of the bordering houses. The only thing he could stab was cats and the citizens under their protection, yet the new thief-taker treated every shadow like an imminent threat. The sun hadn’t even gone down and the city folk were still moving around.

“Keep an eye on him,” Liam said. “Check on any spots he misses and try to keep him from murdering random people.”

“You got it, boss.”

Ames went to catch up with Ricardo’s patrol. A week ago, he had tried to stab a cat as well, but he fled in fright when he encountered Liam.

Liam lingered a few minutes longer before returning to Rimun Gate to speak with Sir Jimena. Upon entering the captain’s office, however, he found that the Knight wasn’t there.

“Where’s Sir Jimena?” He asked a sentry back down at the gate.

“He went to the Fire Gate,” the sentry replied.

“Why?”

“‘Cause it got handed over to us.”

“What?” Liam frowned, “I thought that was happening tomorrow morning.”

“That’s what we all thought, but the place is emptied of armsmen. The locals said it happened this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“I know, right? Damn royalists will do anything to get back at us.”

Liam rushed over to the Fire Gate, which was roughly one kilometre east of the Rimun Gate. He passed several Restelo Squads performing inspections along the way, then found a small crowd of well-dressed men and women at the gate itself.

“What is the meaning of this? We haven’t had security all day!”

“Is this what we’re to expect with House Restelo?”

“We’re lucky that vagabonds didn’t sneak in to rob us!”

It sounded like a bunch of royalist stooges leveraging the unannounced handover to cause trouble. The last guy’s complaint wasn’t even realistic, as anyone could enter the Prime Estates so long as they weren’t swinging an axe all over the place.

Wait, does that mean they staged a bunch of robberies to go along with this charade?

The pile of complaints grew, burying Sir Jimena’s attempts at mollifying the crowd – which was a mistake in the first place. A second Knight appeared several minutes later: a newcomer to Hoburns by the name of Fuentes. Liam slipped in behind him as he pushed his way through.

“Jimena, what in the gods’ names is going on here?!”

“Ridiculous!” A man somewhere in the crowd shouted, “Restelo has no idea what they’re doing!”

Sir Fuentes turned a glare in the direction of the voice, but was only met with a sea of mixed expressions.

“Oh, gods, he’s going to murder us!”

“Someone call the Holy Order!”

The audible sound of grinding teeth accompanied Sir Fuentes the rest of the way to the gate. Sir Jimena looked like he was about to murder someone himself.

“It’s all yours, Fuen–oh, hey Liam.”

A hush fell over the crowd, their once-angry gazes going from Sir Jimena to Liam. A woman nearby – he was pretty sure it was the Esme that worked for House Ovar – screamed and fainted. The crowd panicked and melted away into the Prime Estates, leaving a line of royalist armsmen quaking in their boots as they levelled their halberds to ward him away.

“Huh,” Sir Jimena said. “Remind me to call on you the next time this happens.”

“Forgive me for being new here,” Sir Fuentes said, “but what the actual fuck just happened?”

Sir Jimena came over and clapped Liam on the back.

“Liam here’s our very own Demon Assassin from Ijaniya,” he said. “Or something like that. It gets crazier every time I check.”

“I’m sorry,” the other Knight said, “I don’t follow.”

“That would be ill-advised,” Sir Jimena replied. “It just goes wherever it goes. Where are your men?”

“Half of them are drunk and the other half are getting drunk. We were supposed to assume our duties here tomorrow.”

With House Restelo’s expanding operations came additional companies of armsmen. A and B Company were joined by a C and D Company in the ranks of the elite, though those two were promoted from the best of the regular companies and were only about a step above the rest. Supporting them were eight regular companies, four of which were still in basic training.

The elite companies patrolled the border streets while the regular ones were assigned to the interior of House Restelo’s jurisdiction, which included its growing labour camp. Since the companies that had passed their basic training were already assigned to specific duties, however, the men stationed at the Fire Gate appeared to be somewhat raw recruits who were probably training in the camp when Sir Jimena snatched them up en masse.

“Then I guess we’re stuck with these scarecrows for now,” Sir Jimena said. “Liam, do you think B and D companies can afford to move?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Liam replied. “It’s quiet right now, but what the royalists did here is bound to open up some holes in our defence. I’d be especially wary of any ‘presents’ that they’ve left behind.”

“Such as…”

“Sabotaging our fuel storage, for instance. They may even believe they have a right to do it since the warehouses would be filled with their charcoal.”

Sir Jimena clicked his tongue.

“I wanted to save the district inspection for the morning, but it sounds like it’s better to do it right away. Fuentes, you’re in command of the company here. I’m going to see who I can recruit from the locals for this. Liam, start checking around for sneaks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam left the gatehouse and walked along the city’s second wall, wondering how to go about doing that. It was still early enough in the evening that people were doing things outside and he wasn’t familiar with any of them. Additionally, the newly acquired district was set up in a pretty annoying way.

While House Restelo controlled the Fire Gate, they didn’t control the walls. Usually, walls would represent safety, but the royalist-manned walls instead represented a way for their enemies to cause trouble. Unless House Restelo constantly monitored its entire length, infiltrators based in the Prime Estates could sneak over at any point.

Bordering the south of the Fire District was the Water District – locally known as the Water Gardens – which was the closest thing to a hive of scum and villainy Hoburns had. The denizens themselves weren’t bad, but the entertainment district was frequented by countless patrons from the royalist houses. They could come over as an organised effort of well-prepared agents or a mob of drunken rowdies. Either way, House Restelo had to defend against them.

Why is the Fire District by the Water District, anyway? Shouldn’t it be on the opposite side of the city?

The Holy Kingdom couldn’t even get its elemental axis straight. Liam could find no end to the contradictions contained within it.

He made his way over the rooftops, weaving through the forest of soot-stained chimneys of the city’s silent forges. Smiths and their families loitered in the enclosed yards below, their expressions a mix of worry and listlessness. Beyond that, there seemed to be little else but House Restelo’s patrols, who warily poked their heads into every nook and cranny in search of infiltrators and sabotage.

With how small the district was, however, it only took half the night before Sir Jimena was satisfied that nothing was amiss. The closest thing to sabotage were the warehouses left locked by the former overseers, which Liam effortlessly picked at the Knight’s behest.

“You’d think they’re having a competition over how petty one can get,” Sir Jimena scratched his head. “Looks like they managed to empty all of the warehouses before they bolted, as well.”

“Fewer issues over loose ends, I say,” Sir Fuentes said. “Any…unconventional security measures that I should be made aware of?”

The Knight looked pointedly in Liam’s direction as he spoke. He clearly wasn’t comfortable with the idea that there was someone who could sneak around undetected and gain access to pretty much anything in the city.

“The royalists have been fielding spies,” Sir Jimena said, “so we’ve been developing countermeasures for them. I know you just came in from Canta, but you’ll be caught up soon enough. Liam, did you catch any new issues? I know the Water Gardens are a problem just waiting to happen.”

“And the Fire Gate,” Sir Fuentes added. “We don’t have a single lick of authority in the Prime Estates so the royalists can do any number of things. I don’t like how vulnerable we are there.”

Sir Jimena nodded in agreement, then looked over at Liam.

“The wall is controlled by the royalists,” Liam said. “It’s like a fortress they can attack from any time they want. Both the wall and the Water Gardens will need extra security.”

“Would improved lighting help?” Sir Jimena asked.

“I think so,” Liam nodded. “It should eliminate the chance of people sneaking into the district at night so long as the sentries and patrols are paying attention…but where are we going to get so much lighting?”

“Sir Fuentes came in with a few crates of Torches. They were supposed to be set up around our entire jurisdiction, but it sounds like they’ll be put to better use on this end.”

Lord Demiurge is right. Knowledge is dangerous.

In the short time since he started making suggestions to improve House Restelo’s situation, all sorts of novel – at least to the Holy Kingdom – ideas had cropped up. Through specific forms of training and being able to digest new experiences, the Knights and their men were developing practices that even Liam would be hard-pressed to deal with.

He supposed it made plenty of sense: he wasn’t exactly the smartest guy around, but even he could grasp new concepts and turn them into working knowledge just by being exposed to them. Conceptualisation was the greatest barrier to innovation. A lot of things seemed obvious in hindsight and it was easy to look down on others for their ignorance, but trying to think of them the other way around really was next to impossible. One only knew what they knew, after all.

Just before dawn, Sir Jorge appeared at the head of a caravan of goods from the labour camp. The warehouses of the Fire District were still being filled with iron bars, charcoal, and a variety of other reagents for smithing when the local workshop owners were gathered up and brought before the Knight. Liam stalked the rooftops around the gathering, alert for any suspicious individuals.

“Good morning,” Sir Jorge said. “I am Sir Jorge, overseer of House Restelo’s jurisdiction in Hoburns. There was some confusion last night, but, well, let’s put that behind us, yes? I assume everyone will be far more interested in the opportunity that I have come to present.”

“Opportunity?”

A man at the front of the gathering, dressed in guildmaster’s garb, crossed his arms.

“Just so you know,” he said, “we won’t be doing anything crooked for House Restelo.”

Evidently, there had been one other, obvious, bit of sabotage left behind.

“Crooked?” Sir Jorge laughed, “Perish the thought! I understand that the former…management had some choice things to say about our most honourable house, but I assure you that none of it is true. Probably. Ahem, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

The Knight held out a hand. One of his aides came forward with a scroll case and placed it into his palm.

“House Restelo has issued supply contracts for arms, armour, and metalwork,” he waved the case in the air. “There are a variety of terms tailored to different specialisations.”

“We’re not arming House Restelo, either,” the guildmaster said.

“Of course not,” Sir Jorge smiled. “We have our own, most excellent craftsmen, after all. The contract in my hand and the many like it are for the Holy Kingdom. More precisely, they are meant to arm the Royal Army.”

The assembled craftsmen looked to one another while speaking in low murmurs. For all of the guildmaster’s antagonism, they were understandably more interested in the opportunity to make a living again. Sir Jorge held out the scroll case to the guildmaster, who popped it open and fished out the contents. Several nearby smiths leaned in to read over his shoulders. After several moments, the guildmaster rolled the contract up again and put it away.

“I hope you don’t mind if I confirm the legitimacy of this contract with the royal palace.”

“Be our guest,” Sir Jorge’s smile remained undiminished. “In the meantime, if anyone with a greater measure of trust wishes to begin working, our Merchants will be happy to assist you. Ah – there are plenty of contracts to go around, so please keep things civil.”

The moment Sir Jorge strolled away, the guildmaster was nearly trampled by his own members. He may have been swayed to the royalists’ side, but the limits of his influence were clear.