“Bluebeard once told me the more things change the more things stay the same. With everything all the things different here, once you look past the surface, it isn’t so far removed from Stormwind. There are no auction-houses, but there is the marketplace. There are no churches but there is the Chantry. There are no slums but there is the alienage. There are no adventurers but there are still mercenaries.”

From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

If the traffic at the intersection was a steady stream, then the marketplace was where it turned into a roaring rapid. It was a massive square littered with stalls and tents surrounded by a whirlpool of people from all walks of life. I spotted the occasional cart or wagon moved along like rocks carried away by a current. There were so many conversations and transactions taking place it devolved into noise.

“Hey, you’re blocking the road!” someone yelled from behind.

“Oh sorry!” I said and stepped out of the way.

The woman who had yelled at me strode by without hesitation, pushing a wheelbarrow full of clucking caged chickens into the middle of the marketplace. Her figure vanished from my view as a gang of laborers hauling boxes walked out of the maelstrom of people, followed by a man writing things down on a journal. Probably a merchant of some sort, trying to inventory his latest purchase. I caught glimpses of colorful cloth peering out from the covers.

Something was off. Instinct caused me to jolt to the side, right as a pile of white dung splat on the ground that I had stood on. I looked up to the sky to see a flock of seagulls flying past. Lousy birds.

The bustle of the square reminded me of the auction-house at Stormwind, minus the organization provided by the auctioneers and enforced by the city guards. Still, even with the disorder, everything seemed to somehow function without devolving completely into chaos. And somewhere in that mass of people, the mercenaries were present.

A city guard walked by in his green and brown. This wasn’t my first time seeing one on the streets, and I hadn’t bothered one for direction given the less-than-warm welcome I received at the one at the city gates. However, I was running out of time. I walked towards them, dodging traffic as I passed.

“Excuse me!” I said. The man stopped and turned towards me.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m looking for the Blackstone Irregulars. Do you know where I can find them?”

“Eh…” He scratched away at the side of his mustache. His expression was vacant, and I got a whiff of alcohol from his breath.

“You mean the folks who run the fighting pit?”

“Uh. I suppose so?”

He pointed towards the center of the marketplace. “Probably over there.”

“Where over there exactly?”

“Eh… don’t know,” he said then stepped away.

Well, that wasn’t too helpful. Looking ahead, the only option left was to walk into the densely packed market square. I sighed then stepped into the rabble.

Within moments I was surrounded on both sides by stalls of hopeful sellers and a horde of perusing buyers. Some of the stalls were mere wooden stands while others were tents the size of houses. Foreign scents assaulted my nose, their intensity enhanced by the heat of the afternoon sun.

The wares were unfamiliar but I could have guessed their purpose. Rolls of colored cloth meant for tailors. Clay pottery and straw baskets for the housekeepers.

“Fresh Oysters! Fresh Oysters from the Great Sea!”

“Incense from Nevarra. Take a gander!”

“Dried Dates! Dried Dates from the Anderfels!

The smells, the noises, the sights were far more vivid up close than from afar.

“Come here my friend!” waved a merchant, dressed in colorful yellow and orange clothing. “I have the finest fruits and spices from Antiva. Surely you must be interested?”

“Er… No thank you. I must get moving.” I wasn’t moving so much as I was being moved. The crowd of people relentlessly pushed me forward.

He disappeared as I was carried away. It was suffocating. I kept a hand on my sword and another hand on my belt. Pickpockets were all too common in places like these. The best way to dissuade any would-be-thieves was to look alert and threatening.

My eyes were drawn to dried figs and leaves hanging from one stall, herbs or spices of some sort, none of which I could recognize. I passed by it, and came across a stall with a charcoal fire. The owner frying several racks of chicken over the tinder. A pleasant smell wafted through the air, of greased butter and cooked meat. My stomach growled.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I have detected you require sustenance. A potential source has been found nearby.”

Always count on the Lorekeeper to tell me the obvious. “Yes, I know.”

“Why do you not forcibly procure it from the source?”

“Because that would be stealing. And that is wrong.”

“Stealing. Unknown judgment.”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Acknowledged. Storing note for future explanation in memory banks…”

I saw an opening ahead and squeezed toward it through the crowd. Finally escaping into the outer perimeter of the market.

The buildings were different on this side. They were sleeker and larger. Some had glass windows, ornaments, and even gardens. A few were gated with wooden palisades and armed guards who were personal retinues judging by their colored armor.

“Ser Lindleshear, I must implore-“

“Hold your tongue, whelp. We will speak once I deem it appropriate.”

A man dressed in a patterned outfit with slicked hair walked by me, followed by two servants trailing behind him. He walked with his hands crossed behind his back, chest puffed high.

The two of them disappeared into a large structure. On the top was a painted inscription. The Gnawed Noble Inn.

Well, that was one place I was in no hurry to be at. Judging by its name and its customers, it seemed like it didn’t cater towards people like myself. My eyes were drawn to the colored windows across the street of another building. The art reminded me of the mosaics of the Grand Cathedral.

There was a star shaped ornament stood on its pointed roof. It was surrounded by stone walls with twin lady-like figurines standing next to the entrances. It was also guarded by several pairs of individuals wearing suits of armor with a very familiar looking sword emblazoned on their breastplates. Templars.

This was probably the Chantry.

“I am able to detect multiple lifeforms in the area from a previous encounter. I recommend we pursue an immediate aggressive physical altercation. I calculate a 100% chance of exterminating them if we take the initiative.”

“Good to know. But no.”

“But wouldn’t it be best to end this potential threat now?”

“Because that would be murder and murder is off the table. Besides, there are more humans nearby and I don’t think they would take kindly to that.”

“Acknowledged. I have recalculated our odds after taking this factor into account and our success rate diminishes to 3%.”

It was good to know that the two places I was looking to avoid were planted right next to each other in the city. There was nothing else here, at least nothing that looked like a group of mercenaries. I dove back through the crowd of the marketplace, trying to avoid walking around in circles.

It was then that I could make out the sound of cheering and clashing swords in the distance. I followed the direction of the noise. In the distance, was what looked like a gaggle of people surrounding an open space. Flashes of metal glinted and I could barely make out two moving heads. This was probably the gauntlet or fighting pit that the guards had mentioned.

I finally got close enough to see that it was a makeshift arena. Wooden stakes were set into the ground to establish the perimeter of the fighting area. Inside the field, the two combatants clashed blades then fell to opposite ends to the cheers of the crowd. People went on encouraging their respective fighters.

“Come on Knives! I have ten silvers riding on you!”

“Don’t let me down Swick! You got this, you big oaf!”

Judging by the people in the crowd, they came from all backgrounds, both wealthy and poor. There were even some city guards by their tell-tale green and gold uniforms. Apparently, public duels and fights were legal in the city. I turned my attention back towards the fighters.

On one side was a man covered from head to toe with armor consisting of riveted plates of steel. The sword that he wielded was as tall as I was. He stood tall, aiming the point of his blade across the field towards his opponent.

His foe, on the other hand, was crouched on the other side with twin daggers. He wore nothing but simple black clothes. There didn’t seem to be any magical enhancement on the fabric either, nothing that would dissuade a sharp metal object from tearing through it in a single swing. He wore a shawl that wrapped around his head and down to his arms. His face was also covered by several layers of cloth, leaving only his eyes exposed.

The two fighters charged at each other. The massive greatsword swung forward and missed, striking nothing but air. The intended recipient of the blow had ducked under it then slashed his opponent twice. The daggers streaked against the metal plates of his foe. It failed to puncture but had enough force to set the armored man off balance, leaving him vulnerable. The hooded figure exploited the opportunity and in a demonstration of dexterity, swept his leg wide into the armored man’s back, sending him tumbling into the wooden perimeter. Several members of the crowd backed away as he staggered forward, while the rest of them went wild with excitement.

The fight was gruesome. It reminded me of the duels between Captain Falmore and Singlepipe, a rogue against a warrior, but with a lot less flare. I remembered that one duel in particular, the one that started with Singlepipe vanishing from sight with stealth and Captain Falmore smashing the ground, leaving cracks, trying to set the rogue off-balance. After that point, it was a whirlwind of blades as Singlepipe parried and dodged, landing glancing blows until he disarmed Captain Falmore with a critical strike and ended the duel.

The armored man got back up and turned around. His foe stood there, and raised a single dagger, almost in jest. His opponent didn’t seem to take that kindly and charged again. I frowned; it was an obvious bait and it looked like the man fell for it.

I was proven right when the hooded figure dodged, leaping over his opponent’s sword and kicked his arm. There was a loud crunch of breaking bones and I winced. Injuries around the joint like that were a pain to heal, even with the help of light energy. The man screamed in pain and dropped his blade.

The assault was not yet over, though. The cloaked figure landed on the ground and faced his opponent. He launched into a flurry of blows with his daggers, clanging and cutting into the parts of the armor where it was the weakest. I didn’t see blood spill, I guess the chain-mail he wore underneath protected him well enough. Still, the armored man stumbled back with each strike, unable to retaliate with his shattered arms.

Finally, the hooded figure twisted his hips and kicked his opponent high in the breastplate, sending him crashing through the wooden stakes and into a few bystanders. The victors in the crowd cheered while the losers drew their head down in disappointment. One specific loser, who judging by his gold striped tunic was probably the richest man in the crowd, didn’t take it well.

“No!” the young man yelled, tossing a half-full mug of liquid onto the ground. He had a fist raised. “Bloody hell! Get up! You can’t lose now!”

Contrary to his words, the armored man remained on the ground. Two men came up and lifted him up by the shoulders. Another man walked to the center of the arena and pointed an arm at the hooded figure.

“Gents! This makes our fifth bout today with Knives as the winner,” he proclaimed. People cheered while “Knives” gave a light bow.

“Looks like today wasn’t your day after all, Vaughn,” said a man next to the one who threw his mug. He laughed, and unlike his friend, wore plate armor and had long ungroomed hair.

“Oh, shut up, Taoran,” Vaughn said, shaking off his grip. “Blast it. I’m done here.”

“Don’t forget to pay up!” Taoran yelled as his friend disappeared into the crowd.

Everywhere around me, people exchanged coins from lost or won bets. The end of the fight jolted me back into action. I needed to figure out where the mercenaries were, and something told me they would be near a fight like this. I looked around and noticed a man sitting behind a table by a billboard, eating from a plate with fried meat and vegetables. He had two guards, wearing a uniform consisting of polished metal armor over a leather jerkin. In front of him was the ex-guard, the same one from the road that mentioned the Blackstone Irregulars. That must be where they were hiring. I pushed past the crowd and towards him.

“What do you mean you won’t take me?!” the ex-guard yelled.

The man looked up. “The Blackstone Irregulars are professionals. Do you know what professional means boy? If I hired every two-bit ninny from across the Bannorn we wouldn’t be professional much longer. Now get out of my sight.”

“Why-!”

“I suggest you do as he says,” said one of the mercenaries by the table.

I couldn’t help but scoff. Most mercenary outfits from my experience seemed to take anyone with a pulse. It was surprise to see one that had standards.

“Fine. You lot will regret this.” He stormed away from the table, which I took as the opportunity to enter.

“We sure will!” the man at the table said, then took another large bite of a piece of meat. My stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

I walked up to the table. “Excuse me, I take it you are the Blackstone Irregulars.”

The man looked up at me and twitched his nose. I guessed I still smelled pretty badly.

He grabbed a handful of fried vegetables and stuffed it into his mouth. “Well you’ve come to the right place. I’m the liaison,” he said then gulped. “What do you want with us?”

“I heard you are hiring.”

He didn’t look too attentive, more focused on his meal at hand. He bit into another piece of meat, sauce and grease dribbling down his mouth. “We are. Looking for a job?”

“Yes.” Trying to ignore the spittle he was spewing in my direction.

“Well, what have you got to offer.”

“Well, I got a sword and I know how to use it.”

“Yes. I can see that.” The man gestured towards the blade. “And…?”

I needed a way to prove myself. Captain Falmore always said the fastest way to earn respect was martial prowess. “Those fights back over there.” I nodded towards the makeshift arena. “You run them. Correct?”

“Yes, we do. City-ordained, lads need to blow some steam off every now and then.”

“I bet I am a better fighter than anyone you can throw in there.”

“Really?” The man started to laugh. I heard snickering from the mercs behind him. “Let us see then! You last one round in there and we’ll entertain having you.”

“Very well then.”

“Excellent! Dirk, can you escort our latest hopeful?”

“Got it boss,” one of the mercs said. He stepped off and nodded his head towards me. “Come on, let’s see what you are made out of.”

We walked through the crowd, where several men and a few women were still exchanging their wins and losses over the last fight. We stopped at the edge of the arena, when “Dirk” looked around and pointed to the opposite side, to someone in the crowd. “Hey Balt! This one says he can knock you on your arse!”

“Wut?” said Balt, who stood up and shoved everyone else aside. The man was encased in steel plates from head to toe, a massive sword by his side that probably could have doubled as a maul. He stepped next to us, his chest coming to my eye-level. I had to crook my neck up to see his face.

“Who?” he asked.

“This fella here,” Dirk said, tapping my back.

“Think you can take on Balt?” the man asked.

I mouthed to Del. “Scan him?”

“Scanning… Entity: Human… Str: 23, Agi: 19, Sta: 20, Spr: 15, Int: 0…”

“What you say?” he asked.

“I said I think I can take you on.”

“Just like that?” he pointed at my obvious lack of any armor.

I looked at Dirk. He shrugged. “We aren’t a charity mate. In the cage, you fight with what you have or with nothing at all.”

Well, I guess I had no choice. I turned back toward the enormous man. “Just like this.”

“Hey!” yelled the man who ended the last fight. “No more fights for the day. If you have a problem, take it somewhere else.”

“Let them at it!” the Blackstone liaison yelled from afar. “This one thinks he has the galls to join us.”

The man stopped then looked at the two of us. “Fine, let’s get on with it.

I heard bets being drawn between people of the audience as we walked to opposite ends of the makeshift cage. I even saw Dirk try to make a wager with a few others in the crowd. Probably against me.

“Rules are simple. Fight till one yields,” the arbitrator said. Balt and I nodded in reply.

“Now.” The arbitrator struck a pole onto the ground. “Have at it!”

The crowd burbled in excitement. I drew my sword, the blue sheen of the blade glinting in the sunlight. Balt walked up to me, almost casually. It was obvious he didn’t see me as a threat.

I didn’t need to kill him here, I just needed to incapacitate him. Even with armor on, if I wasn’t careful, I was sure Captain Falmore’s mithril sword would cut right through him. That was not the kind of attention I needed.

My thoughts were cut short as his sword swept through the air. My opponent had reach, which he used to his advantage. I dodged back, letting it past. He followed up and I had to parry. The impact rattled me, I was more tired than I thought, but I held.

Balt’s expression told me he wasn’t expecting that and he dislodged his sword before going back on the offensive, sweeping his blade several times to ongoing cheers.

I was being pushed back, trying to twist around and parry each blow. Finally, I blocked it too late and the tip of the blade sliced past my cheek. I dashed to the side as he tried to go for a killing blow and behind him then shirked back, feeling blood slowly dribble down my face.

Regardless of Del’s assurances or my personal feelings, this was a battle, as real as any other. It was worse since I had no armor, wouldn’t be able to depend on any light abilities, and was using a weapon I had never been very good at. I needed to end this as quickly as possible.

Balt turned around then smirked and was about to cock another strike when my own sword tore through the air. It met his before it gained enough momentum, and we went into a gridlock.

I saw the surprise in his face as he struggled to press back. Then an armored gauntlet connected with my cheek, sending me reeling back.

I nursed my face. I still should have seen that coming. That hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. If that was Captain Falmore I’d have lost a few teeth and would probably have been sent flying back to the wall.

“Nobody beats Balt!” he yelled as he swung his blade again.

My muscles ached as I pressed all my effort into swinging my sword against his. There was a clash of metal against metal, and I clenched my teeth as the backlash rattled through my arms. The recoil sent my foe off-balance. It was time to end this.

I closed the gap and smashed the pommel of my sword against Balt’s waist. He heaved forward, dropping his weapon. The force of the blow left a sizeable dent on his armor. With his face exposed, I followed up with an uppercut to his chin, holding the punch back. I was trying to make a point, not to kill a man.

It was enough. The enormous man stumbled around, then flopped to the ground in a heap of metal and flesh. The crowd went silent.

I sheathed my blade and walked up to Dirk, who had a stunned look on his face, like everyone else. Behind him, I saw the liaison sitting at the desk, with an equally stunned looked on his face.

“So, am I in?” I asked.

“Well…um… boss?” Dirk looked back.

“Yea…uh…yes. I suppose,” the Blackstone liaison said from afar. “Come over here and we’ll get you marked down.”

“Splendid,” I said and walked forward, the crowd parting to form a path for me.

We came back to the desk where he took a seat and whipped out his quill.

“Now, what is your name?”

“Eratus Riverwood.”

“Era-what?”

“Eratus Riverwood.”

“Funniest name I’ve heard in a while.”

“I’m not from around here.”

“Eh, very well. Mind spelling it out for me?”

I obliged.

“Alright. Come here tomorrow at noon. That is when the jobs begin to open up. As I said before, we don’t supply armor but you’d best get your own before long.”

“Is there anything available now?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he replied. “All the jobs are-“

“That was quite a marvelous performance,” someone said behind me. I turned, and came face to face with the man with ragged hair who won a bet against Vaughn.

“Sir!” said the Blackstone liaison while standing up and knocking over his plate of food. It clattered to the ground.

“You can rest easy,” the man with ragged hair gestured with his hand. He turned his attention back towards me. “I am Taoran Hawkwind. My father leads the Blackstone Irregulars. It is good to see we have such a capable recruit joining us.”

He had a thoughtful look on his face, it set off alarms in my head. His expression reminded me of all the ambitious noble-born officers who seeking to escape the shadows of their fathers. Typically, by volunteering for themselves and their men for pointless and dangerous ventures.

“Thank you,” I said and began to turn away, looking to get away from him as soon as possible.

“No need. You impressed everyone with your performance back there,” he said. “Sadly, you took out someone who had for a job this evening. It seems that I am now in need of a replacement.”

Oops.

"Sorry about that," I said.

"It is alright. Although it now seems that I am now in need of a replacement. What do you say?"

“Sir,” said the Blackstone liaison. “I don’t think it is a good idea to pi-“

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Taoran said.

The Blackstone liaison stood back down.

“What does this job entail?” I asked.

“Just a hired escort for some passengers this evening,” he said.

I had a feeling that there was more to it than that. Then again it wouldn’t be prudent to earn the ire of the son of whoever ran this mercenary company.

“It is nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “I have a wealthy client who is looking for some additional security. Far too many prying eyes on the roads nowadays.”

I doubted his words but food and shelter took priority. I needed money.

“And how soon will I get paid?”

“Straight to the point I see,” Taoran laughed. “Here.”

He procured a small pouch and tossed it to me. I caught it, hearing and feeling the crinkle of metal coins in the sack.

“That right there is 15 silvers,” Taoran said. “15 more when we are done.”

I had no idea how much money that was but judging by the tone of his voice it was a decent sum. Probably enough to land me shelter and food.

Maybe I was just overreacting. Plenty of wealthy individuals would pay for mercenary escorts in Azeroth without doing anything sinister. Why should it be any different here?

“Got it,” I said. “When and where do we start?”

“Meet us outside the west gate at midnight,” said Taoran. “Best be there. Otherwise there won’t be a crevice in this town where we won’t find you.”

He stepped away.